Voodoo Witch Doctor
by TheOddSoul
Summary: That's me. Voodoo Witch Doctor Kyle, ready to drop dead from exhaustion, if the mountain of homework I get doesn't bury me first. And to make things worse? I kind of have a "thing" for my best friend.
1. That's Me

**Voodoo Witch Doctor**

I don't know why Stan hangs out with me. I really don't. I mean; why me? I'm not exactly special, I'm not really funny, or cool, or charismatic. So why? He could hang out with anyone, so why am I his best friend? He really can hang out with anyone. He's funny, athletic, logical, …good looking, and nice. He's also the best Witch out of everyone in the school, and it's not just me who thinks that. Me, Kenny, some of the other guys, and Wendy. Especially Wendy. Thus, he could hang out with_ anyone_.

Maybe we're friends because I'm smart enough to do both his homework and mine, though he's never asked. I'm not a nerd, and I'm not as smart as everyone thinks I am, but I do spend more time in class than with friends, but it's not my fault I have to take three extra classes. Maybe it's because he pities me. Maybe he thinks I don't have many friends… I have friends. I have Stan, and Kenny, and… Ike. Or maybe we're friends because I'm the only Voodoo Witch Doctor in all of South Park.

Everyone at school is jealous. Partially because I get the title of a Voodoo Witch Doctor, partially because I get the perks of being one, but they're wrong. Being a Voodoo Witch Doctor is all work and no fun, at all. It's the reason I have to take three extra classes after school. I have to go to one class learn spells, one to learn potions, and one to learn voodoo. It's a lot of fucking hard work, so it's a good thing I don't have shit brain.

I said I spend more time in classes than with friends; that is 100% true. Everyday I wake up, I go to school, I go to Witch class with Stan, I go to Witch Doctor class with some people in my class, then I'm the only one in Voodoo Witch Doctor. After I go home, do my homework, eat, then go to bed, and the whole cycle starts over. At least on the weekends I get a little time to just hang out with someone.

The life of a Voodoo Witch Doctor is not easy. That's me; Voodoo Witch Doctor Kyle, ready to drop dead from exhaustion, if the mountain of homework I get doesn't bury me first.

I'm not even that good of a Voodoo Witch Doctor. Sure I can make voodoo potions—not that I've actually tried—but that doesn't make me good at my job. I'm certainly not to good of a Witch, or a Witch Doctor as well, and I still have to go to all the classes.

Sometimes I wish I was just a Witch Doctor, or just a Witch, hell, being just a human wouldn't be that bad, but I'm not. Do you know the chances of being born a Voodoo Witch Doctor? I'm part of the 1%. Witch Doctors are 5%, and Witches are 20%. It's kind of weird, though, my mom is a Witch, my dad is a human, and my brother is a Witch, but he's not related to me. Witch + Human = Voodoo Witch Doctor makes no sense to me, but here I am.

And coming from a family where there is no history of even any Witch Doctors at all, my mom decided I should embrace this rare opportunity, and converted our basement into my study. It's become my second bedroom kind of, it's where I do homework and mess with my potion recipes.

What was I talking about? Right, Stan, he's the luckiest guy alive. He only has to go to one after school class, and he's really freaking good at magic. I really, **really** don't know why I'm his friend. I know why he's mine. That's completely obvious, who doesn't want to be friends with Stan? We've been best friends since preschool, and he's the greatest guy I know. Plus, I kind of… like him.

Who doesn't? Wendy does, or did, or whatever.

What does she know. She might be a Witch Doctor, and she might be good, but she still broke up with Stan. Why would she do that? Because she doesn't think he's good enough for her?

"…Kyle…"

I know it was a year ago, but who does she think she is!

"Kyle."

She thinks she can just do whatever she wants because she's in the student coun—

The end of my teacher's wooden staff crashed down on the edge of my desk shocking me awake, "AHH!" I screamed, sitting up in my chair. "What was that for!"

Mrs. McGilroy squinted down at me, "Pay attention, child." Then she walked back over to the blackboard to continue writing notes on a potion that could turn someone temporarily invisible. She always carried those staffs and wore her weird headdress and wings when she taught me.

I realized then that I hadn't written down today's lesson, I had just scribbled circles in my notebook; my mom is going to be pissed. I quickly copied what she had on the board, then spent the rest of the class watching the clock until it was six and class was over. Eight thirty in the morning until six in the afternoon, I'm at school.

Eventually, the clock ticked six and she let me go, and I walked out of my classroom eager to get home. Who wouldn't be after nine and a half hours? I ran to the front of the school while trying to shove my notebook back into my backpack, and noticed someone leaning against the fence around the front of the school. Once I was closer I saw it was Stan standing against the fence waiting with his bag for something.

"Dude, Stan, what are you still doing here?" I asked, and he turned hearing my voice. "Witch class ended two hours ago."

He got up from leaning on the chain link fence, picked up his backpack, and began walking with me toward my house, "It's Thursday, we always do homework together Thursdays." He said.

I mentally cursed myself, "Right, sorry, I've just been distracted lately." I said. Well, it was the truth.

"I'm not surprised." He said, looking over at me. "Don't worry, though, you'll figure it out."

I looked over at him with an eyebrow raised, "Figure out _what_?"

He shrugged, then looked up at the clouds in the setting sky, "Eh, whatever it is you've been distracted by."

There's a thing with us having known each other for so long; he can practically read my mind. Luckily, in Witch class they haven't taught us that much yet. Can Witch's read other people's minds? I wouldn't be surprised, if a witch can do it, Stan can do it without even thinking about it. And there was indeed something I had been distracted by recently, let's just hope to Abraham that he's right, and I will figure it out. It's just… recently I've been wondering if I should tell him or not. You know, how I feel about him.

Okay, maybe I should start over.

My name is Kyle Broflovski, I'm a Voodoo Witch Doctor. That's one step above a Witch Doctor, two above a Witch, three above a normal human, though I have to go to human school, and all three classes anyway. I live in South Park, and am the only Voodoo Witch Doctor known to be here besides Chef's mother, Mrs. McGilroy, but she doesn't count because she really lives in Scotland. The only reason she's here is because the only other Voodoo Witch Doctor that ever lived here, Dr. Mophesto, went missing last summer, and they needed one to teach my Voodoo class.

My best friend Stan is one Witch among many here, but he is _the_ best, as I've said before. Kenny, my other friend, and Cartman, my, uh… acquaintance, are both just humans. My brother Ike is a Witch, so is my mom, my dad is a human. People I share my Witch Doctor class include Wendy and a few other students, and among Witch class is Stan, Wendy, and other students. In my Voodoo class I spend the end of the afternoon with Mrs. McGilroy mostly alone.

I was so relieved to finally be able to go home and do homework, and Stan could help we with the spells and what not.

We walked a little while longer in silence until he said, "What'cha thinking about?"

I looked over at him, "So you **can't** read people's minds." I laughed. "I was imagining what Cartman's fatass would look like splattered all over the pavement." I lied.

He half laughed, "Really? You were honestly thinking about that?" I just nodded. "What did he do this time?"

"During recess he shat in my lunchbox." I said, this I did not make up. "I noticed after we had gone back in and had to throw it away. And my dad packed me left over KFC and an almond cookie."

He looked over at me, I expected him to laugh and tell me 'what did you expect from that fatass?', but he looked more concerned, "Seriously? Dude, Kyle, I swear, tomorrow, I'll paste him one in the playground."

We had made it to my house then, and were walking up the drive to my front door, "What? Why?" I asked. "It's no big deal."

We stopped when we reached the door and continued to talk on the front step, "No big deal?" He asked. "Kyle, he took a shit in your lunchbox! Don't you want to get him back at least a little?"

I just looked at him; god he's perfect. "Yeah, he took a shit in my lunchbox, so what? It's not exactly an act of kindness, but he's done worse." I said, looking away, then I turned back. "What's with you? You never gave a fuck what he did before, why the sudden support?" I asked, then unlocked the door with my key and pushed it open, we both stepped inside. "Seriously, it's no big deal."

We dropped our bags by the door, my mom's voice came from the kitchen, "Hi, Bubbi, how was school?"

"Fine, Mom, Stan's here, we're going to do our homework in the basement." I called, then got my folders and notebooks from my bag and Stan's from his, and we proceeded to the basement.

Since I was carrying our stuff, Stan was supposed to open the door, but he just stood in front of it concentrating. He had his arm slightly extended and was turning his wrist slowly as the doorknob of the basement door turned in unison without him touching it. Eventually it opened, and sliding his first finger in the air it swung open.

Stan turned around to grin at me; "You're getting good at that." I said, and started down the stairs into my study with him behind me.

This isn't Harry Potter, flick a wand and chant a spell kind of magic; Witch's wave their hands and think about what they want to happen, and sometimes it does, sometimes what they want doesn't happen. When we learned new spells in class, it always took me a few tries to get it right because my mind always wandered and I couldn't focus on the spell. Even when I got it right I was shaky; Stan was the opposite. He got everything first try, and after a few minutes of practicing on his own he could do it perfectly.

I dropped our books and worksheets on my potions table, moving my test tube rack and Erlenmeyer flasks out of the way. I turned back to Stan who was getting a look around.

"The plants are knew." He said gesturing to the hanging plants tied to my ceiling.

"My mom got them." I said. "She wants to be sure that when I start making potions I have enough ingredients." I explained, then grabbed a box of strawberries from my miny fridge and walked over to Sammy's cage to feed him.

He was already named when I got him, Dr. Mophesto gave him to me for my last birthday as a test subject when I started making potions. He had made him himself by feeding him Voodoo potions he himself had invented, that's how he got the four extra asses. At first my parents didn't think it was a good idea to have a five assed monkey, but when they found he would probably help me in my Voodoo potions they couldn't refuse. Though now, my mom wouldn't give a second thought at getting rid of him if it weren't for that I could take care of him, and she didn't have to go near him, because for some reason he only liked me. Everyone else if they came too close he'd try to rip out their hair and throw his shit at them.

Later after Stan and I would be done with our homework I have to take him out to get fresh air. Just another one of my many tasks.

Stan had walked over and gotten out his worksheets for Witch class, then had sat back down in his usual beanbag next to mine, "So what are we starting with, Witch or human homework?" He asked.

I unlocked Sammy's cage and pulled him out and let him run around with his toys while I got my stuff and sat next to him, "Witch, you know I do my human homework during class. If I didn't I'd be buried in it."

"Witch it is." He said, pulling out a pencil from his pocket and I read the first thing on the paper aloud.

"In just learning the spells to make things hotter or cooler, do this exercise on your own with parental supervision." I said, and we both scoffed. "Get a single glass of water, room temperature, and set it on a table or flat surface in front of you." I got up to retrieve a glass and some water, and came back to find Stan moving one of Sammy's ball toys with a spell. "Still practicing?" I asked.

"I want to be perfect at the telekinesis spell." He said. "Can't have that Gregory kid one-up me like that last time."

I rolled my eyes as I sat the glass on my potions table, "He's a good kid, just because during class you dropped your paper while demonstrating and he picked it up for you with the spell doesn't make him better than you. There are plenty of kids who are better than him, and no one is better than you."

I sat back down in my chair, "How can you say that?" He asked. "I'm just a Witch, you're a Voodoo Witch Doctor! That immediately puts you on top of everyone!"

I shrugged, "It's just a title, doesn't mean I'm the best, now let's get this over with, I want to get at least five hours of sleep."

"Sure." He picked up the paper to continue reading where I had left off. "Using what you learned in class, first freeze the water with your new spell. After it is frozen completely, use the second spell to boil the water." He said, then put it down. "Sounds simple enough. I'll freeze it, you boil it."

"Sure." I said, because it didn't matter if we were freezing or boiling or shit; I knew I wouldn't be able to do it.

Stan just extended his hand and fingers toward the glass on the table and focused on the water inside, moving his fingers very slowly in waving motions, eventually we heard the crackling sounds of the water freezing, and the whole thing iced over. He put his hand down and we both got up to take a look: the thing was frozen solid.

"Your turn." He said, then smirked. "If you can do it."

I walked back to our seats, "Whatever." I said, he always did this to throw me off even more. "Let's just get this over with."

I extended my arm out now and attempted to focus and imagine the water getting warm, then melting, then hotter and hotter. It didn't look like it was even starting to heat up. I imagined harder, it was so hot the glass was melting. It was too hot to handle! For a split second I glanced over at Stan, because I was trying to think hot, the second I looked back at the glass I lost focus and the thing exploded! We both covered our eyes and faces with our arms and fell back against our beanbags as little pieces of glass flew everywhere. When it was done, I opened my eyes and looked around. Stan and I were untouched, but there was glass everywhere and water splattered on the floor and the table.

Stan was the first to get up while Sammy poked his head out from his hiding place behind his cage unharmed too, "I'll go get us another glass." He said. "Don't break this one." Then he left upstairs.

I fell back down against my beanbag with my hands over my face, "What the hell was that!" I said to myself. "You totally just blew up a glass of water and nearly killed him! Fuck, this is horrible! He probably thinks I'm insane, he hate's me, I know it!" I said, then sat up as he walked back in. "Oh. Hi." I said nonchalantly.

He put the new glass in the place of the other, "Were you just talking to yourself?" He asked.

Shit. "No, but are you alright? You didn't get hit or anything, right?" I asked.

He came back and sat down in his seat again, "No, I'm fine. You want to try freezing it instead?" He asked.

I sighed, "I'd rather not do anything. I'm horrible at magic, you know that. If I try again I might end up killing us."

He sighed too, "You know, when I'm having trouble with a spell, you know what I do?"

I looked over at him, "You? Having trouble with a spell? The Stan Marsh having trouble with a _spell_? Isn't that against the laws of nature?" I asked. "Don't waste your time on me, some people are good at this stuff, some people aren't."

He just looked at me, "Do you want a bad grade?" He asked, knowing that if I did my mom would probably beat me with a metal bat. "Good at it or not, you're going to have to freeze that glass of water."

I stared at it on the table, "And what if I just can't?"

"Alright," He said, pulling his beanbag closer to mine, "take a deep breath, and try to think about nothing." I did the taking a deep breath part, but the second thing was hard. "Now focus your mind on one thing that's been bothering you, and just let it go. Everything's fine, close your eyes…"

I closed my eyes and I thought about Stan and how I had first figured out I liked him. I mean, I always had, it just took a while to realize it. I thought about all the times after when we hung out and it was hard to stay on topic with my mind wandering about the outcomes of what could happen if I ever told him. Then I thought about what would happen if I told him right now. Then I just let it all go. I just let go of everything, even him, and I began to hear the crackling of the water freezing into ice.

Once the sound had stopped, I opened my eyes to see the water had frozen completely like Stan had done the first time.

"See? It worked." He said, and patted me on the back.

I knew better than to celebrate my 'victory', I knew Stan did this sometimes. He'd get me to close my eyes and take deep breaths or visualize it happening, and while my eyes were closed he'd do it himself so I could think I did it. This is really why I like him so much. And why I can't help but wonder why we're friends.

We did a couple more exercises on the worksheet then got my dad to sign the bottom saying we had done it, and returned to the basement so we could do my potion homework and my voodoo homework. I don't know why they just call them both potion homework, because Voodoo Witch Doctors do the exact same thing as Witch Doctors. They both only make potions, except Witch Doctor potions are fertilizers and hair growth and things to help make the flowers grow, Voodoo potions are for people and the body like turning people invisible or animals into other animals. Voodoo potions are more powerful and deadly. My first lesson in Voodoo class was that for any of the Voodoo potions if you get a single ingredient wrong and you drink it; it will kill you. That's not like the regular potions where if you mess up it just wont work and might give you diarrhea, Voodoo potions either worked, or you were dead.

By the time we were done and had eaten dinner, it was nine, then we had to take Sammy out to give him some air which he enjoyed, then pooped on our lawn. When we got back it was so late that Stan got to sleep over on a school night. We slept up in my bedroom in my bed together like we always had, and Stan was out by ten forty-five while I laid awake staring at my ceiling. Eventually I turned my head to look at him with the light of my digital clock to slightly light up his face. He even slept perfectly. Never stirring, never making a single sound but breathing in and out.

"Hey Stan." I whispered. "You awake?"

He sighed without opening his eyes, "Yeah. You alright?"

"Yeah." I said, turning my head back to face the ceiling. "But, I've been kind of wondering lately… why am I your friend? I mean, you could be friends with anyone, so why me? I'm not special or anything."

He sat up and stared at me, "Not true." He said. Yeah. Really reassuring. "That's what you've been worried about?" I nodded and he laughed. "Then you have nothing to worry about. You're my friend because we've been friends forever, and we always will be." He said, then laid back down. "Now go to sleep, you're always talking about how you can never get enough of it."

That didn't really answer my question, but at the moment I was satisfied enough with the answer that I actually did close my eyes and fell asleep.

I woke up, it was morning, but Stan wasn't beside me. He must have gotten up before me for once. I got up and went down stairs, my mom was in the kitchen making breakfast, my dad was reading the newspaper, and Ike was eating cereal.

"Mom, where's Stan?" I asked casually while sitting in my usual seat at the table.

She turned around, "Oh, he left early. He said he had to meet someone at school, so he took off. I even made pancakes."

He had to meet someone? This didn't settle well in the pit of my stomach, I ran out of the kitchen, grabbed my bag, then dashed out the door, "I'm going to school now!" I yelled back, and continued running until I made it to school.

I had gotten to the chain link fence outside and hid behind a tree in the lot next to the school, then slowly poked my head out to see if I could find Stan. I saw him sitting on a bench with his arm draped over Wendy's shoulders; they were talking.

Their backs were facing me, so I crept out from behind the tree and snuck up to the fence behind them to listen. They were laughing about something.

"…And then the glass exploded!" Stan said, finishing what he had to say.

Wendy laughed, "Why don't you just give up on him, Kyle's pathetic!" She said. "Why don't you just tell him about us…?"

Stan turned to her and smirked, "I want to torture him a little longer, babe."

She gasped still smiling, "He likes you, doesn't he?"

He groaned, "It's so painfully obvious too. But, so long as he thinks I don't know, I can still play him."

"You're so bad, and **straight**."

I felt like I was falling through the pavement, I was falling to my knees or something, the last thing I heard out of Stan's mouth echoed hollowly in my mind as the world seemed to spin and darken, "He's just a stupid Voodoo."

My eyes flew open and I looked around unsure of what was going on; I was in my bed, in my bedroom. I turned to face my clock; 6:47. I turned to face the other side of me; Stan was laying there still asleep.

Should have seen that coming, I've had that same nightmare every other day for the past week.

I groaned while sitting up, and poked Stan in the shoulder, "Stan? You awake?" I asked. He didn't respond at first so I shook him, "Dude, wake up." His eyes slightly opened and he looked over at me. "Wakie, wakie, eggs and bacie."

He yawned, stretching his body, "What? What's up?" And he looked over at me again just begging for more sleep. "Is someone dying?"

I felt kind of stupid for getting him up now, "I had a nightmare." I blurted out; that's not what I wanted to say. He sat up anyway, looking sort of interested and maybe concerned. "You were with Wendy… you said I was pathetic, and you were just using me."

He made a weird face as he chewed on the information, then eventually spat out, "I don't think that." Then he got up to get dressed.

I raised an eyebrow, then followed him to my dresser, "Well, Stan, it's not that I don't believe you… I just don't find 'I don't think that' very reassuring."

"Are you always this skeptical?" He asked. "When was the last time we had a normal conversation?"

I was a little worried now, "What do you mean?"

He turned around to face me while pulling up a pair of my jeans, "We're friends, why do you talk so formally to me? You're so tense." He smiled. "I get it! That's your weakness! You can't concentrate on spells because you're trying to hard. When was the last time you actually took a break from school and work?"

I went back to raising an eyebrow, "Does walking Sammy count?"

"No." I frowned. "Seriously, Ky, you need a vacation; you're over worked."

I put on my own clothes, "Wow, really?" I said sarcastically. "You know what my mom would do if I took a break."

"Kyle! Stan!" My dad called from downstairs. "Breakfast!"

We ran down without another word, and to my displeasure; there were no pancakes like there were in my nightmare. Stan and I sat at the kitchen table with Ike and my dad in silence, eating our cold cereal before had to get our stuff and leave. Thank god it was Friday, maybe I should take a vacation over the weekend. A few days rest is really what I need, why can't summer come faster? At least then I wouldn't be cooped up in the basement all day.

We walked to school in silence too, and I wasn't all that surprised. I was on edge recently, Stan probably thinks I'm angry with him. God I'm such an idiot! I hope nine hours goes by fast.

We were nearly late, so we didn't have time to talk to anyone on our way in, which was good, because I didn't want to risk him seeing Wendy and my nightmare coming true. We had to sit through every boring lecture with our human teacher, Mr. Garrison, then get quizzed on our freezing/boiling spell in Witch class with Wendy's mom. I didn't blow up the glass in class like I did at home, but also barely made steam, so I failed. Normally I'd get a C for trying, but I was trying to_ freeze _the water that time. So much for getting a good grade.

After, Stan left, and so did most of the other kids, and I was stuck with Damien as my partner for Witch Doctor class with Craig's dad, who never teaches us shit. Our lesson was a potion that made your eyesight turn completely red tinted for a few minutes. The main ingredient was mango skin, and Damien poured some into my water bottle to see if it worked. I had an allergic reaction and went into Anaphylactic shock. Mr. Tucker had no idea what to do, so I had to get my Epipen out of my bag myself and inject it in my leg.

Unfortunately I was well enough to still go to Voodoo class after spending the rest of Witch Doctor class in the nurses office. Damn Epinephrine works_ to _well.

Mrs. McGilroy started class like she always did, chanting something as I walked in the door and took my seat, then waving around her staffs. She already had on her wings and headdress, only one more hour, Kyle, you can survive. I really thought after that incident with the mango skins I'd be off the hook. Now my mom was going to yell at me when I get home about not being careful. Cartman was right; she is a bitch.

I got out my notebook and my pen, and droned off picking the edge of my paper while Mrs. McGilroy wrote the lesson. Only fifty-nine more minutes, Kyle, then it's the weekend.

I don't really care about Voodoo, or lessons, or potions. So far, there has not been a single one that has ever caught my eye or has been of much interest. Why can't I just skip? What's being a Voodoo good for anyway? I get to turn invisible for five minutes; big whoop. There is no way this lesson is even important.

"All right, nah, we begin today's lesson!" She said, waving the staff in her left hand, then picked up her chalk and wrote on the board while I continued to not care.

Eventually she finished writing the name of the lesson and put the chalk down so I would look up. I did. I take it all back.

"Today we learn to make a love potion."

* * *

><p>Yes, some people are allergic to mango skin, my friend's dad is. This does not mean they are allergic to mangoes though.<p> 


	2. Candy

By the way, they're about 10 or 11 years of age.

* * *

><p>Wait, what am I talking about? Love potion or not, this lesson still isn't important. I mean, yeah it's a love potion, but I'd never even think of using one! Still… no, using one on Stan would be selfish. Besides, if I did… it wouldn't be like he <em>actually <em>loved me, it'd just be the potion. And what if I messed up making it? One ingredient wrong and he'd die! I'd never risk that, not even if he'd like me.

I sat there bored again this class while mindlessly writing down ingredients into my notebook. After, Mrs. McGilroy went off talking about who discovered how to make it correctly, and the origin, famous Voodoo Witch Doctors who spent their lives trying to makes these, and some who made their living off of selling them. The only really interesting thing I found was that they were illegal. I mean, most Voodoo potions are illegal for obvious reasons, but this one had been outlawed since it was first created. I guess people back then understood something about true love.

Who would even want to use one anyway? That is so pathetic, having to use a deadly potion on someone just to feel like someone cares about you. That's the lowest thing I've ever heard of, there is no way I'll ever make one of these, they're just plain pathetic. And I'm not pathetic. Am I?

I could stop paying attention again after I got down the ingredients and the recipe, those are the only things that are important when you're a Voodoo. Mrs. McGilroy just continued on talking about the history for the rest of the hour. She mentioned stuff about fumes and it's taste, but all potions give off fumes while their made, and all potions have a significant flavor. For the red tinted vision potion, it gives off the flavor of mangoes for obvious reasons.

Finally after what had to have been way to long, the final bell rang, and I got to leave. I shoved my notebook mindlessly into my bag while Mrs. McGilroy erased the notes on the board. I got out of my seat and headed for the exit; another useless class, another useless lesson, and another useless potion. Even if I did want to use one on Stan, I wouldn't be able to. I've never even made a Witch Doctor potion out of school, and they were always failures. I'm not going to start with a Voodoo potion that will most likely kill whatever it comes in contact with.

I continued walking out through the empty hallway in silence. What if… the only way Stan would ever like me would be if he drank a love potion. What if 'us' never happens, because I was to afraid to try to make a stupid potion? Goddammit! I wouldn't be thinking this crap if Mrs. McGilroy had just taught me how to make a potion that turns people to stone, or if I had just never been born a fucking Voodoo! I banged my fists against my head as I continued walking; a potion that turned someone to stone would really be more useful to me right now, because I'd either be a statue, or dead anyway!

"Kyle? Dude, what's wrong?" Someone asked, running up to me.

I opened my eyes and put my hands down, Stan had stayed late again today, "Uh, nothing's wrong." I lied. "What are you still doing here?"

He looked at me funny, "Are you sure nothing's wrong? I always go home with you on Fridays." He crossed his arms and we continued walking. "You're telling me you forgot again?"

"I've just been distracted." I said, getting my head back together. Fuck! What the hell was I thinking! A statue or dead, now not only am I a stupid Voodoo, I'm a suicidal! FUCK! "Hey, uh, Stan?" I asked after a while.

"Hm?" He looked over at me.

"I've been thinking; when is the best time for me to start making potions on my own? Voodoo potions I mean." Oh my god, Kyle, don't ask, don't ask… "Because, you know how Voodoo potions go; their illegal, they could kill you… so before I used any, I'd have to test them to make sure they would harm whoever they're meant for. What if… I made a potion one day, and it was a mess-up? What if I test it on myself, and I die?"

He stopped me and I turned to face him; he looked up at me and said, "Dude, Kyle, don't say that. You're not going to die, not anytime soon, I hope. You can start making potions whenever you want, and—dude, don't worry—you've got Sammy. Isn't he the exact solution to the 'potion testing' problem?"

I knew I shouldn't have asked, "Right, you're right, I forgot, I'm sorry."

We continued walking, "God, you really are distracted, aren't you?" He asked. "What exactly are you doing in Voodoo class that you're not sharing? You and Chef's mom smoking weed or something? Is that it? Is that the Voodoo secret!" He said it jokingly, but I still punched him in the arm. "…Can I get some?"

I sighed, "Dude, we don't smoke weed, she just writes down potion ingredients and recipes, and I copy them down. Sometimes she goes on about history and discovery and some shit, but it's really kind of boring."

He pretended to yawn so I punched him again, "Shit, dude, you're going to give me a bruise! So what was the potion today?"

I mentally gulped, should I tell him? It wouldn't be awkward, would it? It's not like he can pin anything on me, just because today had to be love potion day. "We… uh… made sock puppets." I said; that being the first thing I could think of.

He burst out laughing, and I smiled faintly to myself. I liked it when Stan laughed, especially at something I had said. It made me feel like I did something right for once, instead of like the stuff I do in class, where everything always ends by blowing up in my face. Literally.

We were walking up my driveway now, and he calmed down some, "No, seriously, what was the lesson? What can be so important that you learned in _school_ that you would be this worked up over it?"

I snorted, "That's the thing; it's **not** important. It's so… not important. It has nothing to do with anything, it's just there. There is no meaning to today's lesson, it's so insignificant; that it would be a waste of oxygen just telling you about it."

"You realize that in the time it took you to sum all that up, you could have told me and the conversation would be over now?" He said, and I opened to front door for the both of us. "So what is it?"

I dropped my bag and so did he, once I stood up again I stared at him and he stared back waiting for me to continue. I sighed, "Stan, it's not my fault that we were doing it today, I don't make the lessons, she just happened to be teaching it. It doesn't even matter though, because I'll never use it, no one will ever make one, so can we just…" I noticed he looked a little heartbroken. "…just, not… talk about this anymore?" I asked.

I got his notebooks from his bag and began walking toward my basement door with them a little solemnly. "Yeah, sure, whatever."

I chased after him, quickly just ripping my books from my bag then tried to get him to look at me, "Stan, no, dude, it's not that I don't want to tell you, you're my best friend, I just… don't think it really should matter."

We dropped our stuff on the floor in front of the beanbags and I went to feed Sammy, "No, you're right, it doesn't matter." He said. "So… do you have any homework from Witch Doctor?" He asked.

I walked over to him after letting Sammy out and picked up my books, "If there is, I didn't get it; I was in the nurses office the later half of class."

Stan looked kind of worried at this, "Why? What for? Did you make a potion that blew up? Is that why you were asking me about a good time to make potions earlier?" He just kept throwing out things that could have happened that would have put me in the nurse's, and it looked like he could do it for a continual while. Did he actually care if something happened to me? Normally when this kind of thing came up in a conversation with my friends, they'd blow it off and tell me how much of a pussy I am. "Are you seriously okay?"

"Yeah, I'm totally alright." I said, trying to act like it didn't bother me. "I just had an allergic reaction to some mango skin; you know that's no big deal."

He smiled cautiously, then pushed me playfully, "Sorry, I was just worried you might have been knocked out or gotten brain damage."

"You worry **way** to much about me." I said as my response.

He picked up his human homework and a pencil and started question 1, I had already finished it in history, "I hardly worry about you, Kyle, I know you know how to take care of yourself. I just don't want my best friend to go all poobrain."

I looked over at him weirdly, "Poobrain?" I scoffed. "What are you, five?"

He didn't even look up from his paper, "No, but you need to lighten up. If we were five, you might be susceptible to fun, but now you just repel it." I knew he was joking, but it still hurt.

"Yeah, well, you'd repel fun too if you spent the gist of every day sitting in a school desk with the words 'I love Jacob Black' carved into it. Did you ever meet Dr. Mophesto? He was a Voodoo, and he wasn't all that fun either, maybe there's some kind of underlying theme with Voodoo's; they're just not fun! So if you can't find a way to turn me out of a Voodoo, or sneak me out of my classes for a while I don't thin—" I was cut off by a loud rap on my door. "Just a second." I said, putting our conversation on hold. "YEAH MOM!"

She opened the door and called down the stairs, "Kyle, Grandma's on the phone, she wants to say hi to you!"

Stan and I looked at each other and made sick faces, "I'll be back." I said, then dropped my notebook and headed for the stairs.

"See ya." Stan called after me, but I was already closing the door, so I didn't say anything back.

I walked into the kitchen, my mom had gone upstairs and no one else was around, and I picked up the phone laying on it's side on the kitchen table, "Hello? Grandma?"

At first there was no reply, but eventually came the sound of someone farting into the other line, then some cynical laughter, "Hahahahahaha! Stupid Jew!" Then the line went dead.

Cartman… normally I would have called him back to give him a piece of my mind, but in the past year, I've found that I really don't care that much anymore. He doesn't disserve my time, and if I called him to complain, then he got what he wanted. Though, maybe yelling back for once wouldn't be so bad, I had forgotten how good it felt to sock him in the face… maybe Stan is right; I am kind of dull.

Speaking of him, we still had homework to do. I put the phone back on the hook, opened my refrigerator and got two cans of Mnt. Dew, and headed back for the basement.

I nearly had the knob for the basement in my hand when the door flew open; Stan had come to check on me, "Hey, you're done." He said, noticing me standing there. "How did it go?"

I pushed past him down the stairs and he closed the door and followed, "It went pretty much well." I lied. "She's doing fine besides the fact that she's Cartman."

He took his soda from me when we had sat back down, "Wait, what?"

I looked around for my notebook, then slammed it shut when I saw it was lying open on the floor to the love potion lesson, "Uh, well, it wasn't my grandmother who called; it was Cartman trying to play a prank on me." He just nodded in the sense that that was Cartman, and there was really nothing we could do about him. "Did you, uh, see that?" I asked, gesturing to my notebook with my head.

He looked over at it on the ground like he didn't know it had been there all along, "Uh, no?"

I got up then and scooped it into my arms, "Good, I'm going to put this away, is that alright? Yeah, that's alright. Good, I'll just do it now." I said, hardly talking to him, then walked quickly for the stairs.

Stan stood up too, and he followed me, "Kyle, wait, tell me what's going on? You're acting really weird. You should just sit down." He said, and caught me when I started up the stairs. He turned me around with one hand, and I dropped my notebook onto the first step, and opened to today's lesson. I reached down to get it back, but Stan was faster. "Here, let me." He picked it up slowly, reading the title and the date, then closed it even slowly and handed it back to me quietly. "I, uh… love potion? That's what you didn't want to talk about?" He asked, looking me straight in the eye.

My grip on my notebook tightened, "Stan, I… I think you should leave." I managed to spit out.

I stepped aside to give him room on the stairs, but he just kept staring at me. It was starting to freak me out, then he smiled uncomfortable, "Dude, Kyle, _that's_ what you've been so worked up about?" He asked casually, how could he just blow it off like nothing? "You were right, it isn't a big deal." I knew then he was lying. "You're my best friend, you can talk to me, even about 'love potions', alright? You know that. It's nothing to get so worked up over. Let's get our homework done." And that was the end of our conversation. He just waltzed right back over to his beanbag and continued working out his math homework while I stood still dazed by his usual coolness.

God why him. Why did I have to fall in love with him? He's too perfect.

He glance back up at me then from his worksheet, then looked away quickly. I guess that meant I should come back and finish my Voodoo homework now. The homework about who created the potion we learned today and other historical stuff. Normally that would be bad, because I tend to space out during that portion of class, but Mrs. McGilroy can't read English, she can only speak it, so as long as it looks like I've done work she gives me credit. What did I tell you? I'm not as smart as everyone thinks I am.

Eventually, Stan and I finished our homework, and I walked him home while I was walking Sammy. This time he pooped on Stan's lawn. I waved good-bye to him from the sidewalk and he waved back from his porch, then as I was walking away I saw him take out his phone while he opened his front door, then disappeared with it inside. He was probably texting Kenny about my Voodoo lesson.

Sammy and I walked back to my house in silence. Seriously, why Stan? Anyone else would have been fine—great! I know it's because he's like God's gift to mankind, but this couldn't have put me in a worse situation. Falling for someone his level in comparison to mine was bad enough, but he's my best friend. Fuck, just for once I wish… I wish I'd never learned to make a love potion, because the idea of using one on him was really itching bad in the back of my skull. I would not though, there is no way in hell I'll ever use one. No way I'd ever force Stan into anything… even if it was just getting him to like me.

When I got back home, I put Sammy back in his cage, then sulked up to my room and into my bed. I must have laid there forever just staring up at my ceiling listening to the silence and wondering if… if right then Stan was awake in his bed thinking about me. I don't even need to use a love potion; I'm pathetic enough already.

Eventually I fell asleep, but I wasn't for long. I didn't even get to my usual Wendy nightmare before I was jolted awake by the sound of a rock crashing through my bedroom window. I sprang up in my bed and approached my window with caution, then pulled back the curtain to peak outside, and found it was Cartman who was standing outside my bedroom window hurling rocks.

I had just about enough of him for one night, I threw up my window and started screaming at him, "Cartman, what the fuck are you doing here! It's two in the morning, and you smashed in my fucking window!"

"Shhhushh!" He yelled back, trying to shut me up. "Fucking Jew, just shut your trap!"

I calmed down enough then to stop screaming at him and rested my arms on my windowsill looking down at him, "Well, you got me up, what do you want, fatass?"

"Aye!" He started, then stopped himself and shook it off. "I… need to talk to you about something… important." He said, well that was vague. "I need… a _favor_."

I scoffed, "Eric Cartman, asking me a favor? This is great, this is fantastic!" I yelled back down at him with the biggest smile on my face. "You're actually asking 'the Jew' for help? I gotta see what this is about." I said. "Alright, I'll be down in a minute, we can talk out front."

I pulled on some sweats and put on my heavy orange jacket and a pair of socks and shoes, then snuck down the stairs to the front door. When I opened the door he was already on my front step shivering.

He pushed past me inside before I could come out, "Jesus it's fucking cold out there." He said. "You got any snacks?"

I just shut the door and guided him to the basement door. If he wanted to talk inside, we'd better do it where my parents wouldn't hear him swearing his fatass off. We walked down those stairs in silence after closing the door behind him and turning on the basement lights. He made himself comfortable by opening my mini fridge and eating all of Sammy's strawberries, then taking Stan's beanbag chair. I was surprised he didn't pop it.

I walked over to him and took the strawberries back, giving one to Sammy as I passed by to put them in the fridge. After I stood over him with my hands on my hips waiting from him to start explaining what was so damn important he couldn't wait until Monday to ask me; he had to instead wake me up by breaking my window.

He continued to just chew on the strawberries he had stolen, so I started a conversation, "So, Cartman, what do you want? I only get so much sleep, you know."

He looked up at me irked, "Understand Kyle, I'm not asking you because it's come to this that I can only ask _you_ for help—"

"Call it whatever you want." I said, not impressed.

He stood then, and walked around my potions table admiring my beakers, "You're a Voodoo, you know how to do all this potion shit, I want to buy one from you." He said.

He turned back around to me when he didn't hear me say anything in reply, "Are you serious?" Was all I could think to say. "You realize Voodoo potions are illegal. I could be arrested for making one without getting my license." I could get that anytime really, but I'd have to make a successful potion to present first, and I wasn't even close to that. "And you should know if I messed up the ingredients at all the person drinking it will die!"

He grunted in frustration, "Yeah, I know! I just need you to do this!"

I shook my head, "Okay, I knew you were stupid, I just didn't know you were **this** stupid." I gawked. "Why do you want one anyway? What's your sudden interest? You always made fun of me for being a Voodoo before, now you're asking me to make you a potion? This is beyond reasoning, you're trying to screw me over, aren't you?"

"I just need this one thing, then I'll go! Jesus, Kyle, just help me out this once and I'll leave! Then you can go back to bed! Fucking Christ!" He yelled, loosing his patients.

I crossed my arms, "And why should I help you?" I asked. "What have you ever done for me? Oh, I know, you've shat in my lunchbox, you've impersonated my grandma then farted into the phone, and you've woken me up by breaking my window just to talk me into illegally making you a Voodoo potion. What the hell is wrong with you!"

He looked surprised I would have fought back, "Well anything sounds bad when you say it like that!" He shook that off too. "Listen, Kyle, please, just help me this once; I'll pay you. I just need one love potion, that's all I—"

I cut him off, "Wait, love potion!" I turned back to him. "You want me to make you A LOVE POTION!" He cringed as I began screaming again. "You mean to tell me, you want me to make you a love potion? How do you even know I learned how to make one today!"

I frightened him so much he even backed up into the wall, "Kenny told me!" He said. "He said Stan told him you learned how to make it in Voodoo Class."

Kenny's so going to get it at school Monday. "Who the hell would you even want one for!" I yelled in his face. "Who would you even use one on?"

He looked around nervously after that, "Y-you don't need to know."

I was beyond furious then, "NO! There is no way in hell I'm making you a love potion! That's the lowest thing I've ever heard of, that's lower that dirt! That's lower than you! You think I'm going to risk everything I have making you an illegal potion for money? Like hell I will! Love potion my ass! You can rot in hell for all I care!" I screamed, and he looked mortified. "I am this close to strangling the fat shit out of you! Even with a love potion everyone still hates you! I'm never making you one!"

With that, I walked back to the stairs to go back to bed and leave him there, when I heard something. I turned back around and saw him leaning against my potions table with his back to me, but it was obvious he was crying. This wasn't like those times he faked tears to get him mom to buy him a new Xbox game, this was real.

"I knew it wouldn't work." I heard him whisper to himself. "Just a fat piece of crap."

I watched him a little longer. God I'm going to hate myself later for this, "Shit!" I said to myself, then walked back over to him. "Cartman, it's not because I hate you—because I do—it's not because you're fat or annoying, or egotistical, it's because Voodoo potions are dangerous, got it?" I asked.

He just continued to look down crying and sniffling, "I-I know… I knew W-Wendy would never like me anyway…"

My eyes went wide then in shock, "Wait, did you just say Wendy? As in Wendy Testaburger? Stan's ex-girlfriend? That Wendy Testaburger?" I asked, he just nodded, and I smiled wickedly. "Alright, I'll do it!"

He rubbed his eyes and looked at me unsure, "Wait, what? You'll do it?"

If I can make a successful potion for Cartman to use on Wendy, then Cartman would stop bothering me, Wendy would be in love with Cartman and I wouldn't have to worry about her getting back with Stan, and I get to make some money on the side. It didn't sound that bad at all.

I jumped over to my potions table and began making room for my notebook and sorting out my test tubes. I got my notebook from my backpack upstairs and laid it out to the right page on my table while Cartman watched not knowing what to do.

I looked up at him after a while of seeing what ingredients I needed, "It'll be ready by Monday, I expect one hundred bucks in my locker by the time I get to school, got it?" I asked, he just nodded. "And if you even think about turning me into the school for making one of these or if you get caught with it… I swear I will…" I tried to think of something threatening to Cartman, and I admit I couldn't think of much. "I'll poison Wendy with a Voodoo potion." I warned, and he ran out nodding scared shitless.

I didn't know Cartman had a soft spot. This was going to be fantastic to use against him the next time he calls me a dirty Jew Voodoo. But, what have I gotten myself into? If I mess this up at all, Wendy will be dead, and it will be all my fault.

The life of a Voodoo is pure hell.

* * *

><p>poll on my page if you guys want to go check it out.<p> 


	3. Creek

Cartman is a total douche. I really didn't want to help him, but this was my only opportunity to do something for once. If I did this, I wouldn't have to worry about Stan going back to Wendy.

I was sitting in the corner of the basement alone and had been since Cartman had left. What have I gotten myself into? I'm pretty sure that moment of weakness for Cartman was a one time deal… he'll probably kill me if I don't do it now. Fuck! Never do anything for Cartman; how could I have just disregarded that; thinking that he actually cared about Wendy! He's probably only using it to take advantage of her. I gasped out loud; what if it's a set up for Stan? What if the potion isn't even really for Wendy! I wouldn't be surprised if all that crying wasn't real either. Fuck this is bad! This is very, very bad!

I continued sitting in my corner for a long time. It had to be at least nine in the morning by now, but I didn't really care. I felt like I should just die for believing Cartman… for everything… we'd all be better off that way. Especially Stan. Especially Wendy, I have to make her **fall in love** with Cartman. If it weren't for me she and Stan could still be together, and Cartman wouldn't have to worry about her anymore, because I'd never have a chance. He never had a chance with her in the first place, that's why he needed the love potion.

I never had a chance with Stan, did I?

I looked up solemnly from my arms hugging my knees into my chest. I'm going to have to make him a love potion even if it was a trap. If I don't; Cartman will come gunning for me because I didn't make him one, but if I do make him one and he uses it on Wendy and it fails; her parents and the FBI will come gunning for me because I killed her! I still had to.

I forced myself to stand from the corner and wiped my face on my sleeve, then walked over to my open notebook already open to the right page on my table. I really should get a separate desk down here for my notebook and other notes. Hell knows I'll be taking a bunch when this gets started.

I closed my eyes and took in a deep breath, then looked at the page. First was the list of ingredients.

2 tablespoons black tea

1/2 tablespoon strawberry juice

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

10 grams chili powder

5 grams lemon zest

5 grams cinnamon

1/8 tablespoon nutmeg

1 drop human blood

It didn't look that hard to make, I probably have most of the ingredients here at home already. At least for the ones I don't have I can probably get at the supermarket, I've been taught some potions by Mrs. McGilroy that call for the liver of a blasphemous Jew. And about the blood; all Voodoo potions need blood. Once the last ingredient is added you need a drop of blood to kind of seal it so when you lace someone's drink it wont mess up the potion.

And I'll only ever have to make this _one_.

I ran upstairs to the kitchen with my list of ingredients; I might as well get this over with. My parents only drink coffee, so I put a check next to the black tea and strawberry juice so I'd remember to get them later at the store.

I grabbed the brown bottle of vanilla from our spice cabinet along with a big jar of cinnamon, but I couldn't find any chili powder or nutmeg. In the refrigerator we only had one slice of lemon left, so I figured I might as well get more. I grabbed what I had, along with a cheese grater, some measuring spoons, and my brother's metric scale from his science project from under the sink and returned to the basement. The spice and vanilla went on the table in an empty spot I had cleared with the utensils and scale.

Next was getting the things I didn't have. I ran upstairs to my dad's study where he was sitting at his desk busy on his computer. I walked up behind him as quietly as I could.

"Hey, Dad?" I asked, and he jumped a little in his chair, then swiveled around. "Can I have twenty bucks? I want to get something at the grocery store."

He blinked at me a couple of times, then reached for his wallet, "Sure, Kyle." He said, and pulled out a twenty. "You want me to drive you?"

I took the bill and ran for the door, "No, I'll walk. I need to get out of the house."

Once the door of the study was closed behind me I could breath again. I shoved the money in my pocket next to the list of things to get, then walked nonchalantly down the stairs and to the door like nothing was going on. The walk to the grocery store from my house isn't very long—small town you know—so it only took me fifteen minutes to get there.

Inside, I went to get the tea and the spice first. They were in the same isle, so it didn't take too long to find. I crossed off black tea, chili powder, and nutmeg, then went to produce and got the best three lemons I could find. You know, incase I need extra lemons. The last thing to get was strawberry juice, which took me forever to find because they didn't have any out front, and I had to ask a worker to check in the back because it was 'important'. Coincidentally they only had one box in stock because no one ever buys strawberry juice because A.) no Voodoo's live in South Park, and B.) who the hell has ever heard of strawberry juice?

I could tell the employee was a little skeptical about all my purchases the way he kept reading the labels. He could have just came right out and asked me if I were a Voodoo and why I needed strawberry juice so badly. They cashier at the front gave me weird looks too, so I tried not looking directly in their face. The twenty bucks my dad gave me also barely covered my purchase because the fucking lemons were three twenty each, and strawberry juice is expensive.

I knew this would probably be the only time today I'd be outside my basement, so I took the long way home through the park. It wasn't snowing now, but there was still some on the ground, but it wasn't soft like when it fell. In a few hours after being in the sun it'll be slush, and that's the one thing I'm happy for since I'm spending the day in the basement. At least I won't miss snow. I didn't take _too _long though, I didn't want the strawberry juice to go bad or something stupid like that.

I came back to an empty house; my mom was at work and my dad had taken Ike out to buy him some new brand science calculator and he didn't want my dad to pick up the wrong one. Again. So I was alone, and that was fine with me.

I ran down to the basement and laid out all my ingredients then checked over the recipe. It looked like it only took an hour or so to make, so that was a good thing. Before I started, I emptied Sammy's water, then walked back over to the table.

The first thing to do was boil two cups of water on a stove. I ran upstairs to my dad's study and found his camping gas burner in a white box under a tone of crap and brought it down to the basement. My dad never goes camping, so he won't miss it. I made sure to open the basement window in the front of the house when I had come back from the store to let the fumes out, then I got my face mask and put it over my mouth and nose. Voodoo potion fumes are deadly too.

I was pretty sure that's as safe as I could get, so I grabbed the match box from the same box the burner was in and turned on the gas a little and lit it up. I ran back upstairs and got a pot and a measuring cup full of water, and put them on the burner.

I had to wait until the water came to a boil, then having not have brought a cup with me, used a flask to hold to boiling water. The next step was to put the black tea into the water, so I pulled out a teabag from the box I had bought and ripped it open, then dropped all the pieces in. It worked fine, but I had to reach in after and pull out all the little shriveled leaves and other things. I felt really stupid after that.

Next was the strawberry juice, which had to be added cold, so I had to wait half an hour while it cooled in my mini fridge. I took it out then, and spilled it all over my table while trying to pour it into the small half tablespoon. The second I added it to the black tea, it turned a bright yellow. Normally, if you put strawberry juice in black tea, it might get cloudy because that's what it does… but if you're a Voodoo, just pouring stuff into other stuff you give off this kind of spark. I'm not even sure what it is, but works.

I know I said I wasn't too excited to be making my first Voodoo potion, but when I saw it change colors like that, I nearly screamed because it worked. So far so good.

Next was the vanilla that had to also be boiled first without water, so I poured the gist of the bottle into my pan and watched it sizzle. It gave off the greatest smell, I could even smell it through my face mask, and that's probably a bad thing. The potion so far didn't have any fumes because it was just black tea and strawberry juice, but this was definitely going to give it something. I dropped in the teaspoon of vanilla and it turned a bright white and immediately started smelling like a strawberry smoothie.

For the next step I had to take out my brother's scale and measured out ten grams of chili powder. Personally, I felt like a drug dealer. It was kind of fun. I slid the powder off the scale directly into the mixture and the whole flask shook then gave a single rattling spark of fire, then went out and began glowing a dull orange.

I found out that lemon zest was shavings of the lemon's skin after looking it up in a dictionary, then used our cheese grater to get five grams onto the scale, and nearly skinned myself in the process. Adding that made it a brighter orange. Cinnamon made it a reddish brown color.

This thing called for a hell of a lot of nutmeg, which I dumped in, making the potion a bright glowing red. It was done. And it really only took me an hour. I was ready to smash the thing on the cement floor and leave it at that, but I still had to give it to Cartman. And even before I do that… I have to give the last ingredient.

How do the goth kids do it? I never see them all doing it… but in the bathroom once I caught the red haired one in a stall with a pair of scissors to his wrist. He had the open blade to his skin and—my god I get squeamish even when I think about it!

I stood above my table, and more importantly the potion, thinking this, and trembled a little then shook it off. I had to do this. What if I slip and actually hurt myself? Shut up Kyle, you're cutting yourself, it's going to hurt anyway!

I ran upstairs to get a knife from the kitchen before I could talk myself out of it. I came back down and stood above the table again, with the knife shaking in my palm above my wrist, my wrist above the flask. _I only have to do it this once._ I closed my eyes and pressed it to my skin, it was cold, but I didn't care. It didn't hurt as bad as I thought it would, and when I opened my eyes, it was over.

I dropped the knife on the table and pressed my finger close to my cut to squeeze out a drop and it fell into the potion. I guess that means it's done. I looked back at my wrist; the cut wasn't so bad, you couldn't really see it, I can just wear a Band-Aid over it or my jacket. I picked up the potion and swished it around in my hand. It wasn't even that much, I could probably swallow the thing in one gulp. I guess it was a recipe for like a shot or something, that way it'd be easy to put into someone's drink.

I liked the way it glowed on it's own. It was mesmerizing.

Down to business. I'm pretty sure I didn't mess anything up in the recipe, but I wanted to be sure so Wendy—or whoever is going to drink this—won't, you know, die. But, at the same time, I didn't want to give it to Sammy, what if he dies? I know I've only had him since last year, but he's like a part of the family. He's like a pet dog. Who poisons their own dog?

But, it doesn't really matter, I **have** to. By now he was getting restless from not having anything to drink, so I took his old baby bottle and filled it with water, and added half of the potion. I walked over to his cage and opened it. I didn't even realize then when I took him out I was crying, literally crying.

I'm not a good Witch, or Witch Doctor, and I'm certainly not a good Voodoo. There's no way my first potion is successful. There's just no way, but I have to do this. I have to. There's nothing I can do.

I put him down on the ground and sat in front of him, and gave him his bottle while continuing to cry out of control now, he's going to die, Wendy's going to die, I'm going to die, why the hell did I have to agree to this. He took the bottle in his tiny firsts and chugged it. He put it down empty, and looked me dead in the eyes, and I saw his pupils dilate strangely while taking me in, and I stopped breathing.

The next thing I knew he was running around me making strange 'ooh' noises, then ran to the fake potted tree in the corner by the door and started shaking a branch continually. I walked over to him cautiously seeing as he wasn't on his back gasping and choking down air, and he crawled up to my shoulders and started picking at my hair like he was trying to groom me.

I pulled him off and looked at him in the face with his weird dilated eyes and recognized the behavior from the many books I had read after I had got him. "It worked." I breathed. "The potion worked." I couldn't believe it. I let him crawl back up to my head to continue picking my scalp as I went over to my beanbag to sit down and take this in.

I sat there thinking about how much I had worried, and to be honest, how nice it felt with Sammy picking my scalp. I truly couldn't believe it had worked, because, you know, everything else usually blows up in my face. I was so surprised and happy, I actually smiled. I smiled a big, goofy, outrageous smile, and took off my face mask and hung it on a hook by the door as I went upstairs to my room.

I slept the rest of the day, and for once, I didn't have the usual nightmare. I did have a dream though; I was running through a forest in the middle of the mountains with a love potion in a big container slung over my shoulder. It was weird, it was like a hollowed branch with two glass stripes so you could see the potion inside, and the only light I had as I was running was the glowing red light of the potion. I really liked that vile, I wonder if they make those.

I kept running until I found the back of the school, and I was walking through the playground behind the school, but no one seemed to notice me. Suddenly, a teacher came up and started screaming at me for having an illegal Voodoo potion. I began to run away, but everyone was chasing me, and I was running in deep snow. They were all about to catch up with me when I woke up.

It was five in the morning when I woke myself up, and I couldn't go back to sleep after that, so I just laid in my bed awake for what felt like forever. Sammy had stayed with me all night and was now up too walking around my room circling my bed and sometimes coming up to join me, but I just stared at my ceiling.

Voodoo potions are illegal. They're _illegal_. I could go to Juvenile Hall for the rest of my life—or at least until I'm eighteen. Cartman's probably only doing this to turn me in. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. I finally had something to be happy about—proud even!—and now this! Fuck! I hate my life.

I pulled my left hand out from under my blanket and used the light of my electric clock to light up my wrist to examine my cut. It wasn't that dark, it was already starting to scab, maybe it wouldn't leave a scar. Plus, it's only this one.

I found myself looking at it blankly for what I personally figured was too long, and pulled it back under the covers. It's just a single scratch, no one is going to notice. Definitely not… Stan. God, if he saw… this… he won't see it. Stan can't see the cut, he'd freak out. He'd accuse me of hanging out with those faggy goth kids, and that's the last thing I'd need. I just… don't want him to worry about me. Pfft, as if. He wouldn't care about me if I stood on the edge of my roof. Again with the suicidal.

I groaned to myself and turned over in my sheets, then remembered all the evidence I had left out in the basement and ran downstairs. I was so careless I even left out the strawberry juice. I put everything back in it's box and the ingredients in boxes left over from my new test tubes. The juice and the rest of the potion I put in my mini fridge, after bottling the potion in a pocket sized jar and corking it.

After all that, and a few minutes of slowing down while sitting in my corner and thinking, I decided I was going to enjoy today no matter what, because I need a vacation. I called Stan once it was later and after I had eaten breakfast, and we agreed to play video games at his house. I made sure to put on my extra big jacket before I left so I could cover my wrist, and unfortunately, I found after I left the house, that today was going to be eighty-degree weather. Perfect.

Stan answered the door when I arrived—sweating—and invited me in. The first words out of his mouth?

"Dude, Kyle, you want to take off your jacket? It's like eighty-fucking-degrees out." He walked me over to his TV where his Xbox was already on and at the Guitar Hero main menu.

I sat, and grabbed a plastic guitar, "No, I'm fine. I like it this warm." I lied.

He went ahead and chose the first song for us, "You sure? You look like you're about to keel over. Seriously, take it off. You look really uncomfortable."

I shook my head, and the song started, "I'm not taking it off, don't ask me again, I can wear what I want. You're not my mom." I said, more forcefully than I had intended.

He was silent until the end of the song, if he talked he'd mess up. Eventually he said as I picked the next song, "Alright, sorry." He lowered his voice to a whisper to say under his breath, "No need to be so acid." But I heard it anyway.

I didn't say anything back. I felt kind of bad. The rest of the day was awkward, and I left an hour earlier than planned, but he didn't say anything about it, so I left. I cursed myself all the way home. The rest of the day at home wasn't so hot either. My parents and Ike had gone out for dinner because I wasn't home, and told me via sticky note that I found stuck to our refrigerator, and they didn't come home until late. They said they would have brought me home some, but they ended up eating mine. I lied and told them it was okay because I'd eaten already at Stan's house, then went to bed early out of having nothing else to do.

I miss the days before I had a crush on Stan.

I woke up in the morning feeling horrible as usual, and got up only because I had school and I had to give Cartman his love potion so he wouldn't kill me. My lunch was already made and sitting on the counter, so I grabbed it and went down to the basement to get the love potion out of the fridge, then snuck it in. I ran back upstairs to my room quickly before I had to leave and cut a pair of my tube socks into finger-less gloves that went up just past my wrists and put them on. They covered the scab that had started to peel off accidentally.

By then it was too late to eat breakfast if I wanted to get to school on time, I ran out the door without a word, and down the street all the way to the Elementary School. I needed to get there early to see if Cartman had put the money in my locker.

I reached the school fence in record time, and ran into the building down the hall toward my locker. I opened it and a little envelope fell out onto the floor. I ripped it open and inside was a hundred-dollar bill, and a note written in obscure handwriting. The only words I recognized were Jew, potion, and Cartman's locker number. I guess he wanted to meet me there. I groaned out loud; his locker was on the other side of the school.

"Kyle, what's wrong?" Came a voice from behind me in response to my groan.

I whipped around, shoving the money into my locker and slamming the door shut before they could see, and I found it was Wendy standing there with her backpack looking concerned. "Hi Wendy." Was all I managed to spit out.

She looked at me up and down, trying to find anything obviously wrong with me, she stopped at my hands, "I like your gloves, did you make them? They're cool." She said smiling.

I hid them behind my back and used my right hand to rub my cut through the fabric, "Yeah, tube socks." I said, looking down.

She laughed a little, "Can you make me some? They look really comfortable. I mean, if you want to. You don't have to if they're 'your thing'." She said.

I really didn't want to talk to her, not like this. Not when I was about to hand her heart to the sadistic bastard. I quickly pulled the gloves off my hands and handed them to her, "Here, just take them, I can make more." I said, then picked up my backpack and began walking off.

She followed, "Thanks Kyle, but you didn't have to give me yours." She said, god-fucking-dammit, why the hell does she have to be so nice!

I turned around to her and sighed, "Wendy, I like you, you're nice, but I don't think we should talk. I don't think I should talk to you…" I really didn't want to bring it up, but it was the **only** way to get her to stop making me feel guilty about doing this. "Not after you broke up with Stan. If he saw us talking, he might think something's going on."

She blinked a couple of times while looking at me, then laughed. "Kyle, what are you talking about? Of course we can talk, Stan said he was totally okay with us being friends, and I didn't dump him."

What she said last really caught my attention, "Wait, what?" I asked. "You're still dating?"

She shook her head, "No, we had a mutual break up. It's over, forever. We both just really didn't want to do the on/off thing anymore. It was too confusing." She said, then looked concerned again. "He didn't tell you that? I wonder why not." She said, and the fifteen-minute warning bell went off. "Well, I have to go, I'll see you later, alright?" She said, then began to walk off. "Bye, Kyle."

I stood there in the hallway a while dumbfounded about the whole conversation, then I remembered I had to give Cartman the love potion. I walked down the hall growing closer and closer to his locker, but with every step I felt worse and worse. There's no way I can let him do anything to Wendy, he could do anything to her if she were in love with him. I was really about to run for it this time, but I turned the corner and Cartman saw me and stood up from leaning against his locker and gestured me over to him.

"You brought it?" He asked in a low whisper.

I stared at him carelessly, "Yeah."

He then spoke louder, "Well, hand it over! I paid you already and everything!" He said, yup, good old Cartman.

I fished it out of my lunch box, but before I gave it to him I said, "Listen, Fatass, if anything happens to Wendy, I will kill you, alright?" I explained, he rolled his eyes.

"You really think I'd do anything stupid to Wendy? I know how her parents get! Jesus, Jew." He said, and took it from my hand and held it up to the light to examine it. "You sure this thing works?"

I pulled his arms down before anyone could see him waving around the illegal potion, and whispered annoyingly, "Listen Cartman, it works, but don't go showing it off to anyone! If anyone knows about it, we're both dead, got it!" I said, and he nodded with a groan. "Okay, here's how it works. All you have to do, it get her to drink it straight, or put it in her drink. Once she takes a single sip, she'll fall in love with the next living thing she sees, and it better for god sakes be you, or I will kill you, got that?" I asked. "You only get one shot, or it's another hundred dollars, understand? No one else will know about this!" I yelled, and he just groaned again.

"Yeah, yeah, don't get your thong in a bunch, I read about it online." He said, waving me off, then put the potion in his locker as the five-minute warning bell rang. "You can go now."

I scoffed, "Don't have to tell me twice." I said, then walked off to class.

I didn't see Stan all day at school before lunch, which was probably a good thing, because I completely forgot I had given my gloves to Wendy. Five minutes before lunch and I had made a new pair out of the ones I was currently wearing. I found him sitting with Kenny and Butters at lunch at our usual table, so I joined them, and we had a normal conversation about how the white patch on Stan's dog looks like Michigan.

In the middle of lunch, everyone's head's turned as Cartman and Wendy walked in the lunchroom arm in arm, with Wendy literally **clinging** to him. Maybe I'm not such a bad Voodoo after all. They walked synchronized and _smiling_, then sat down with Craig and his friends at the table a little ways away from ours. I immediately turned back to Stan as everyone else turned back to their food; his mouth was hanging slightly open. Something told me their breakup wasn't as mutual as Wendy made it seem.

He was in shock the rest of the day and even in Witch class where he messed up a spell in front of everyone—well, almost everyone. Wendy had ditched to hang out with Cartman. He was really messed up. I decided to ask him about it during the second part of class where we all just take notes quietly. It wasn't hard, he sits next to me.

"Dude, Stan, you alright?" I asked in a low voice.

He nodded, "Yeah, I'm fine." He said, he sounded pretty assuring, but I didn't buy it.

"You sure?" I asked. "I mean, during school you were pretty much out of it, and now you're spacing out in _Witch_ class. That _never_ happens." I really didn't want to ask my next question. "Are you jealous of Cartman?"

He shook his head, "No, Ky, I'm over Wendy, seriously, stop worrying about that. I just…" He shook his head again. "I just can't believe it."

"Same." I lied, then continued to copy notes awkwardly because he didn't notice his leg was touching mine under the table and I was too embarrassed to say anything or move mine. Plus I kind of liked it. But anyway, I still didn't believe he was really that alright.

Witch class ended, and he waved good-bye to me through the window, then Witch Doctor class started. It wasn't as fun as Witch class because Stan wasn't in it. Voodoo was the worst, because I felt like I could make any of these potions successfully now, but I still had to listen to Mrs. McGilroy drone on about them. We had extra time at the end of class because the lesson was short, so she even went over the safety guidelines I have to be taught every year as part of regulation. On and on about fumes and precautions. I wanted to kiss the ground once class was over.

I was so excited to go home today with Stan, I ran to the front gate of the school to find he wasn't standing there like he usually was; he had gone home. For a second I felt abandoned, then I remembered he doesn't got home with me on Mondays, so I walked home alone exceptionally slow.

I dragged my feet up to the front door and opened it lazily and stepped inside. I dropped my bags by the door, but I didn't bother taking my work down to the basement to get started on homework, instead I flopped down on the couch in our family room and turned on the TV. The show that came on was The Jersey Shore; I hate that show. I watched it anyway.

Just as it ended, the doorbell rang. No one else was home, so I got up to answer it myself. I pulled the door open to find Craig standing on my doorstep looking at me blankly.

"Uh, hi." I said, opening the door wider when I saw it was just him. "What's up?"

He just continued to stare at me, then said plainly, "I need a favor."

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><p>Go ahead and guess<p> 


	4. Christophory

Thank you all who have reviewed, I wish I could reply to everyone, but I can't.

BTW Paper Heart, i wanted to ask you something, but I can't because you aren't a real account. Why wouldn't Tweek stutter in the future? I know it must be a stupid question, but I really don't know why, so I kind of freaked out while writing this chapter that I was doing something wrong ^^;

I'm so happy to finally incorporate my second favorite SP pairing into a story, because this is the first time for Christophory (or if you prefer; Grestophe)

* * *

><p>"A favor?" I asked in disbelief. "A favor from me? You <strong>hate <strong>me." Craig just continued to stand on my doorstep with a slightly frustrated look on his face and shivered, and I realized he wasn't angry at me, he was just trying to keep his cool, and his warmth at the same time. I stepped aside to give him some room while sighing to myself. "Alright, come on in."

He walked inside happily enough for his usual apathetic self, and took off his boots by the door, then waited for me. I walked right passed him as he had me, and sat in my family room on the sofa once again, turned the TV back on, and acted like it was South Park, the dead of Winter, and Craig Tucker had not just shown up on my front step.

He came as well, but only far enough to where he was hanging around the edge of the family room still waiting for me to say something, so eventually I looked up over at him carelessly and asked, "So what is it?" In a way that he understood I could care less right now because I wanted Stan to be standing in my family room, not him.

He looked away from me awkwardly and said, "I need…" He sighed in his own displeasure. "I need a love potion."

I had gone back to my show by then and had scarcely heard; it was a miracle I had even heard at all, "Oh, well you're not one to beat around the—WHAT!" I screamed, sitting up and looking directly at him after processing what he had said, then lowered my voice to a still pretty pissed off whisper. "Who the hell told _you_!"

He looked back at me with his usual apathetic-ness, "Cartman, who do you think?"

I shot straight up then, ready to stone Cartman, "That fucking piece of fucking shit!" I screamed, because at this point, I really didn't care. "Fat fuck promised he wouldn't tell anyone!" I turned back to Craig then, ready to stone him too. "And you! You have some nerve to come to my house and bother me, then ask for a love potion yourself, after I worked my ass off for Cartman making him an illegal potion!" I yelled, walking over to him. He was less fazed by my outrage than Cartman was, but he might have expected it from me. "What? Do you think that I don't have anything better to do all day? That I'll just laze around and make love potions for all you lazy-assed creeps, who can't get dates on your own! I have a life, and I'm not spending it in Juvenile Hall!"

"Calm down, Broflovski." Was all he said in reply. "I only need one."

I was beyond pissed off now, "Oh really! You only need one; that's perfect! And what happens after I give it to you? Are_ you _going to tell everyone just like Cartman? Just tell everyone, 'Hey! Kyle's making love potions! Let's all go to his house and smother him with our selfish needs!' And guess what? Soon everyone will come asking, saying 'I only need one.' And by that time, I'll have dropped dead, or been taken to court. Do you get it now?" I asked, then stood there leaning over him waiting for his reply.

Eventually he looked me straight in the eye and said with complete seriousness, "It doesn't matter if you don't want to or not, you're going to make me one."

At first I was too shocked to say anything, "What!" But the words came out like nothing. "Okay, now listen to me; I am not making you a love potion. End of story, you know why? Because they're illegal, because I don't trust you, and because you're REALLY PISSING ME THE FUCK OFF!"

He continued as proud as before, "You made one for Cartman and he used it, I can turn you in to the police any time I want."

I was about to walk away when I heard him say that. I whipped around and shoved my finger into the middle of his chest, "Are you trying to blackmail me?" I asked, even though I pretty much already knew the answer. "You know, I thought Cartman was an asshole, but this is a whole new meaning of the word! You think now that that's been said, I'm going to change my mind?" I turned away and walked back to the couch. "I'd rather the police come and drag me out of this house by my hair." I said, then flopped back down on the couch and gave all my attention back to the TV.

I imagined by then Craig would just give up and go home, and that would be that, but five minutes passed, and I glanced over from my seat and he was still standing there, waiting. I turned back to the TV a second later, then looked back at him. He almost looked… sad. I sat up trying to see any better, and sure enough.

I groaned, turning off the TV, and walked back over to him, "You had something else to say?" I asked.

He was silent for a minute, trying to look like nothing was bothering him, "You know what it feels like, don't you?" He asked through gritted teeth, though looking to the side of me this time.

"What are you talking about?"

He looked up at me now, almost scowling, "I bet you've thought of doing it yourself." He said, then gave the biggest—and creepiest—smile I've ever seen him manage. "We have more in common than you think." The smile disappeared, and he became serious again. "You think, 'The only way they'll ever like me is if I use this potion.' Well, let me tell **you** something; that's what everyone thinks. I know it must be against your morals, or something like that, but you have to help me because… there's nothing else I can do."

I began to think about what he was saying, then shook it off, "I said no, Craig!"

"Do you want me to beg you?" He said louder this time. "Cartman paid you a hundred dollars, I can pay you more."

I was appalled, and starting to get freaked out, "I don't want your money!"

He grabbed my shoulders to keep me from backing up and getting away, "Then what is it! There has to be something you want! My money? My clothes? My teeth? Just say so, and it's yours! How about my life? It's not important to me, what's it worth to you? If you want it, go ahead and have it."

I grabbed his wrists trying to get him off me before I start going crazy, "Craig, stop! What the hell is wrong with you!"

He was smiling again, "So, it's my dignity then? Is that all you want? Fine! I'll say it! I'm in love!" Neither of us moved or spoke another word after that. His smile was gone, and he let go of my shoulders, then walked toward my front door to leave empty handed.

I kind of understand what he meant now when he said we have more in common than I think. Who ever… they must be amazing… I've never seen Craig like that. I bet no one has. Usually he just sits in class by himself and never so much as grins. I guess… being so desperate made him kind of loose control.

God I'm going to hate myself for this, "Craig?" I called as he opened the door to leave. He stopped, but didn't turn around. "Alright, I'll do it."

He turned around and walked back to me with his usual lifeless stare, "One hundred dollars in your locker tomorrow," He said, "I'll be waiting for you there."

I rolled my eyes, "Yeah, now go before I change my mind."

I followed as he walked back to the door and stepped outside, but before I closed it, he turned back around and gave me the finger. I wasn't really surprised. A second later he put it away, and reluctantly said, "Thanks." Then turned back around and walked down my driveway back to his house.

I closed the door, then headed down to the basement. I might as well get this over with. I had to run back upstairs to get my facemask before I started, then came back down. I still had plenty of ingredients left over from last time I could use, it was a good thing I got three lemons. I got out all my stuff from the fridge and laid it out on the table to begin making a new love potion. I flipped my notebook back to the love potion page and refreshed my brain on what to do. I boiled a cup of water and turned it into tea, then put two tablespoons into my flask. I was pouring out half a tablespoon of strawberry juice over the flask and it spilled, so I had to start over.

When adding the five grams of spices and other ingredients, instead of taking out my brother's scale and turning it on and measuring it all out right, I just grabbed a pinch of each in my fingers and put it in, and it worked fine. I went to grab my nutmeg to measure out the 1/8 tablespoon, and accidentally knocked it off the table, and it shattered on the floor. I cursed myself, then collected enough off the floor to put into the measuring cup and dropped it in.

The potion looked like the same bright red color as last time, so I'm pretty sure I got it right again. Now all I have to do it put in another drop of blood.

I looked down at my gloved wrist. I hadn't taken off my sock since lunch. I slid it off quickly, wanting to get it over with, and picked up my knife that I had used before. This is the last time I'm doing this. The scab had almost come all the way off anyway because of being rubbed against my sock so much, so I just cut down the first line and squeezed out another drop into the potion. After I put my glove back on. At least it's in the same spot, so it still won't be that noticeable, but the scab came off, and I cut it again, so it might scar now.

Doesn't matter, I have sock gloves.

I dropped the knife and took off my facemask, then took the potion over to Sammy like last time. I let him out and he immediately ran to me and climbed up to my shoulder to comb my hair. I pulled him off and put him on the ground, then gave him a spoonful of the potion. I was a little worried about the potion this time because I had used pinches instead of actual measurements, but I was more confident then over the weekend.

Once he was done he looked back up at me ready to climb again, and I watched his pupils dilate weirdly like the first time I gave it to him, and he started running around me making "ooh" noises like before. He went and shook the fake tree branch, then came back to me just like the first time. I pulled him off and put him back in my cage before he could actually start humping me.

I took the rest of the potion and put it in a little jar then corked it, and took it up stairs and put it in my backpack pocket for tomorrow. By then it was late after having to start over while making the potion, and I went straight to bed without walking Sammy or anything.

I had another new nightmare that night. I was walking down the hallway at school to my locker, with Craig's potion in my backpack. I saw him leaning against the locker next to mine when I finally made it. Inside my locker was the hundred dollars all crumpled up laying next to my French textbook. I went ahead and handed Craig the potion when no one was looking, and he smirked evilly at me before running away down the hall with it.

I was a little suspicious at first, but then I thought, 'It's Craig. The same Craig who came to me the day before saying if I wanted his life I could have it.' I let the smirk go, but it came back when I saw him turn at the end of the hall and race off to Stan's locker area. That made me a little more than uneasy. I went ahead and followed after that.

He slowed down to a walk after turning the corner, then stopped to talk to someone, so I hid around the corner to listen to their conversation.

"Hey, I heard you hate Gatorade, and I found this sports drink at the supermarket yesterday. Maybe you'll like it better." I heard; it was definitely Craig.

"Oh, thanks dude." Came a second voice, I recognized it immediately.

I ran out from around the corner, "Stan, stop! That's not—!" But by the time I had made it to them the jar was empty.

Craig turned around and looked at me after hearing my voice, Stan didn't even glance at me. He was stuck staring at Craig with weird dilated eyes.

"I told you we have more in common than you think." Craig said with the same smile as the day before, and I woke up.

I sat up in my bed shaking and angry and confused. Craig… didn't _really_ like Stan, did he? That can't be what he meant when he said what he said, he was talk about—what was he talking about? He meant we both liked someone enough to give anything for them, right? That's the only really logical answer, that or he really is going to use the potion on Stan. Fuck! Why does this always happen!

I looked over at my clock; it was seven thirty—time to wake up anyway. I jumped out of bed, put some clothes on, and ran downstairs to my backpack and opened my front pocket. The potion was still in there, unscathed. I sighed as I zipped my bag back up, if Craig does like Stan, and is planning to use the potion on him, why should I care? It's not like I ever had a chance with Stan anyway.

I sulked into the kitchen while rubbing my cut through my sock and sat down for breakfast. Ike ate all my Life yesterday, so I had to eat Honey Bunches of Oats, which sucks. My dad said good morning to me from behind his newspaper, so I gave a grunt in reply, then went back to my cereal. He put down his newspaper and watched me for a minute before opening his mouth.

"So, Kyle, how you been doing lately? I feel like I haven't seen you in a while." He said.

I glanced up at him, then went back to my bowl, taking long, drawn out bites, "Fine." I said plainly, wanting the conversation to be over. "I've just been doing lots of schoolwork recently. Classes are busy right now."

Dad seemed a little more surprised than he should, "Oh, alright, well, if that's all, then I guess nothings wrong." He said, he was probably worried about why I sulked into the kitchen and stabbed at my cereal so much. "But," He began to smile, which confused me enough to stop eating for a moment and pay attention to him, "Valentines Day is coming up next month, have you thought about who you're going to ask to be your Valentine?"

I went back to my bowl, "Valentines Day is a Christian holiday, Dad. Plus it's girly." I said, before taking another spoonful of globs of shit stuck together with honey.

He didn't seem to want to let the subject go that easily, "Just because it was started with St. Valentine doesn't mean you can't make some cards and pass out candy." He said.

I was almost done now, and very eager to leave, "We don't pass out cards and candy anymore, I'm in fifth grade. That's little kid stuff. Why is it so important anyway?" I asked while standing to take my bowl to the sink.

I was rinsing it out as he answered, "Well, I just wanted to know if you were going to ask any of the girls in the class to be your Valentine." He said, I wasn't really shocked. "I always hear you mumbling to yourself about someone special, are you going to ask them?"

If I had been drinking anything, I would have done a spit take. I turned around, dropping my bowl in the sink and asked, "You hear that!"

Dad looked a little surprised at my reaction, "Oh, well yeah, but not everything, just a couple of words. Is it Bebe Stephens?" He asked. "Didn't you say she had a crush on you last year?"

I ran out of the room for my bag, and raced to the door, slamming it behind me before my dad could ask anymore questions. This is bad, this is very bad. If I know my dad, he will not let this go any time soon. I went ahead and hurried to school while trying to push it out of my mind. If my dad ever found out… if my mom ever found out!

I got to the school just as the fifteen-minute warning bell rang, and hurried to my locker. Craig was standing there waiting for me just like he said he would, and handed me the hundred-dollar bill himself.

"Do you have it?" He asked as eagerly as you would imagine.

I tore through my front pocket until I found it, then handed it to him, "Yeah, I got it." I said, then watched as he took a thermos out of his water bottle pocket on the side of his bag and open it. He took the jar from me and emptied it into whatever drink was in there, then screwed the thermos cap back on. "Hey, uh, Craig?" I asked as he did this. "Who is this for, anyway?" I couldn't help but ask.

He clutched the thermos close to his chest and scowled at me, "Don't ask me that, Broflovski." He said aggressively. "I appreciate that you did this for me, but that's _my _business." He said, then turned and walked away down the hall.

I watched him as I slipped the money into my pocket, and I became nervous as he walked closer and closer to the end of the hall, and I prayed he wouldn't turn left. He did.

Remember what I said earlier? That I shouldn't care that Craig's going to use a Voodoo potion on Stan because I never had a chance with him? I didn't care about that right now. I began running down the hall after Craig because I didn't want Stan to be under Voodoo control, I wanted him to live how ever he wanted to; not be forced to fall in love with _Craig_. I turned the corner, and ran down the next hall of lockers, but Craig was gone, and there was no one else in the hall. I ran all the way passed the boy's bathroom, then came back when I noticed the door was still closing, and went inside.

The bathroom was empty, but the gym lockers and showers were behind the door across the room, so I ran to the door and opened it, only to close it a second later. Craig was only a few feet away from the door talking to someone with his back toward me. I opened the door ajar and watched.

He was talking to Tweek, and he even handed him the thermos.

"Here, you said you lost your other one, so you can have mine. I filled it with coffee this morning already." Craig said calmly.

I covered my mouth with my hands trying to stop myself from gasping out loud.

Tweek took the thermos in his hands and unscrewed the lid, "Ngh, thank you." He said, and lifted it to his mouth, then practically chugged it down.

When he was done, he capped it and put it in his backpack, and I watched eagerly to see what would happen when Tweek looked up. He did to thank Craig again, and I stared at his eyes waiting to see if they'd dilate, but they didn't. I squinted trying to get a better look, maybe I was too far away to tell? I tested the potion, it should have worked, but Tweek isn't on his back gagging for air yet either, so maybe I just couldn't tell?

"Hey, uh, Tweek?" Craig asked uneasily after Tweek had looked at him. "Do you… feel different?" He asked, Tweek just stared at him weirdly then shook his head. "Well then, do you… like me?" He asked.

"Oh Jesus!" Tweek screamed, the caffeine in the coffee was kicking in… "W-who told you?"

"No one told me." Craig said calmly. "So you do?" Tweek looked like he might cry—or scream again—but he managed to nod twice.

He nearly cringed when Craig put a hand on his shoulder, "Oh shit! You aren't going to hit me, are you!"

Craig shook his head, "No." Then his hand went from Tweek's shoulder down his arm to his hand. "We really need to get you to stop drinking coffee. It's not good for you."

I could see Tweek tense up at first, but he almost seemed to relax, "A-alright."

I guess it did work after all. I guess I just was too far away to see the dilation. A second later the five-minute warning bell rang, and they began walking toward the door to go to class; the door I was hiding behind. I panicked and ran for a stall, and locked the door behind me not a second too late before the gym locker door flew open and they walked across to the hall door. I heard it open and close, then nothing at all, so I let out a sigh of relief; it wasn't Stan after all.

I opened the stall and walked out so I could go to my class, but I jumped when I heard, "Enjoying yourself, Broflovski?" Craig said leaning against the door to the hall.

I turned to him, "Dude, I'm sorry, I just… I needed to make sure it wasn't—"

"Stan?" He asked, finishing my sentence for me, then he got up and opened the door to leave. "You're secret's safe as long as mine is." Then he left me still standing there dumbfounded.

I went to class then, Mr. Garrison was writing useless notes on the board. I took my seat next to Stan who was turning his piece of paper different colors, but only purple and red back and forth. That was probably because he was watching Tweek and Craig whispering to each other in the back of the room suspiciously.

I nudged him in the middle of class, "Dude, Stan, what's up?"

He looked over at me while still changing the paper's color from red to purple and back with his spell saying, "Hm?"

"I said, 'what's up?' " I repeated.

He heard me this time, but didn't stop with the paper, "Oh, nothing, it just seems like everyone's acting weird lately, don't you think? First Wendy, now Craig and Tweek, what's up with that?"

I just shrugged.

"…So the Romans took over the Greeks, and stole their stupid polytheistic religion, but changed all the God's names because they were unoriginal bastards. So the Greeks got all pissed and made the copyright whatever, then they all died within the next hundred years anyway…"

"I don't really know." I lied. "Are you sure you aren't jealous of Cartman or anything, dude?"

Stan groaned, "I told you I'm over her!"

"Stan! Kyle!" Mr. Garrison yelled, making up look up from our conversation, and Stan's paper turn back to white. "What did I just say!"

I looked at Stan, "Uh," I said, "you said that the Roman city-state Sparta, lead by Gerard Butler, did a suicide mission against the Persians, and that it was the stupidest movie you've ever seen."

Mr. Garrison looked unimpressed, "That is not what I said, but it was a stupid movie, so just pay attention from now on." He said, then went back to his desk to continue talking.

"Holy shit, we got lucky." Stan whispered over to me. "That was awesome."

"Yeah, thanks." I said back, smiling.

He thought what I said was awesome, now my life is complete. Well, not really, but it did make my day. The rest of history was a drag, we had a test on Greek Mythology, which I hadn't bothered to pay attention to, but Stan seemed to care less as I watched him out of the corner of my eye. He hardly looked at the test, he just kept staring into no where while smiling and having his pencil fill in his answers on it's own. I wish I was a good enough Witch to have my pencil do my writing for me.

Soon, history ended, and Stan and I went our separate ways until lunch. I went to math class and spent most of it doodling stick figures of Stan. After math was English, then lunch, which I was looking forward to. I sat with Kenny, Stan, and Butters, and I saw across the lunchroom Cartman and Wendy by themselves at their own table eating pudding together, and Craig and Tweek sitting with Token, Clyde, Red, and Bebe. That was their usual seat, but because I was from a distance I could see them holding hands under the table.

I looked back at my own table then, more specifically Stan, who had his eyes on the turkey sandwich in his hands, and I smiled to myself. Kenny noticed this and hit me under the table with his knee, so I turned to him.

"What're you thinking 'bout, Kyle?" He asked mockingly. He always thought I liked Stan, but he doesn't know I really do.

"Are Zebra's black with white stripes, or white with black stripes?" I said automatically, he frowned.

"Ooh!" Stan said, speaking up. "Speaking of Zebras, I saw Craig whispering to Christophe during science this morning." He said.

"What does that have to do with Zebras?" I asked.

"Who's Christophe?" Butters questioned.

Stan was the first to answer, "He's that French kid who smokes in the playground on the marry-go-round. You know, the one with the shovel and the French accent, 'Ze Mole'." Stan's eyes suddenly narrowed. "He hangs out with that cocky asshole, Gregory."

"He's in my French class." I added. "And Gregory is not a cocky asshole, he's nice."

Kenny spoke then, "Getting to the point, what were they talking about?"

Stan only shrugged, "I don't know, but it must have been important; Christophe really listened to him, and that kid doesn't talk to _anyone_. It seems like Craig's talking to everyone these days, he wouldn't shut up during history when he was whispering to Tweek."

"Whatever." I said. "It's none of our business."

We dumped our lunches then and headed outside. Everyone else was already out there, and our usual four square was taken, so we sat around the swings instead. There was only one swing left, so naturally Butters got it. Kenny was pushing him, so I had my eyes elsewhere. I was watching Craig and Tweek as they sat on top of the jungle gym, then turned my gaze to Cartman and Wendy who were leaning up against the vending machine. I felt kind of bad for Wendy again, and I would have felt bad for Tweek, but Craig wasn't Cartman.

I turned to Stan to take my mind off of them, but he was engrossed in whatever he was watching. He was staring at Christophe and Gregory yelling at each other on the marry-go-round. They were _always_ yelling at each other.

A minute later and the bell rang, so everyone started to head inside. Butters jumped off the swing, and he, Kenny, and I were walking toward the door when I stopped and turned around.

"Stan!" I called to him; he was still in the same spot as before. He looked up at me. "The bell rang! Come on!"

He left the swings and ran to join us, then left to go to his next class with Butters, and Kenny ran off as well, so I walked to French alone. I didn't really care; I always walk alone. Inside the French room, only a few kids were sitting in their seats. I took mine in the back of the class and waited for everyone else to join.

The last person to come in the door was Christophe, who took his seat a couple of rows away from mine. All throughout class he kept turning in his chair and staring at me, so I tried to ignore him by paying attention in class. It didn't work that well. He just kept glancing back at me; it was beginning to freak me out. This seems to be happening a lot recently.

My last class was PE, which I had with Stan, but we couldn't talk because we played dodge ball and he was on the opposing team. Usually we just played 'Humans vs. Everyone Else', but we can't anymore ever since in Witch class we learned the telekinesis spell. Stan was using that all he wanted, while I was a complete open target. Plus, he had Pip on his side, and damn can that human throw a ball. I was surprised I made it more than ten minutes.

Once PE was over, all the humans got to go home, so Stan and I walked together to Witch class with a few of the other students. Because there are so many Witches at school, they have to have a different class for every grade, and our class is with Wendy's mom. My parents tell me that when she went to our school, she was the best Witch in her class, just like Stan, but they don't really know, because they lived in New Jersey until I was born.

Wendy was actually here today and in her seat, Craig was too and next to Damien, though I couldn't help but notice neither Christophe or Gregory were at their table, but they came in together only a minute later. Now that everyone was here, Mrs. Testaburger started class the way she always did; collecting homework.

Everyone opened their backpack and dug around looking for their assignment, but I didn't bother. When she came to our table to pick it up, Stan handed her his, and she put his in her stack. Then she held out her hand for mine, but I hadn't done it.

"Kyle." She said sweetly. "Homework."

I sighed, now I really wished I had done it, "I didn't do it." I said plainly.

Everyone's heads turned unnecessarily dramatically toward me; could they really all not believe that I would have just skipped homework for once? It's not even that big of a deal.

Even Mrs. Testaburger looked more shocked than she should, "Oh, uh, well, I guess I'm going to have to give you a zero then…" She said, then walked to the next table to continue, and everyone turned back to their conversation.

Stan still looked surprised, "Dude, you _never_ don't do your homework!"

"Double negative, Stan." I said, trying to act like it didn't bother me. Of course it bothered me, I was getting a zero. "And so I forgot to do it one night, so what?"

He shook his head, "You just don't forget to do homework," He said, "especially you. Is something the matter? You've been acting kind of weird lately."

I scratched at my sock glove under the table, "No, everything's fine, don't worry about it. It's just this once." I assured him, and even managed to fake a smile. "Don't worry about me."

He didn't smile back, "I worry even more when you tell me not to, you know that." He said, leaning back in his chair. "I just want to make sure you're not in danger or anything."

I scoffed, "I'm not in danger, I just didn't do my homework."

We didn't talk the rest of class after that, but we did say good-bye to each other before I had to go to Witch Doctor class. Witch Doctor class is taught by Craig's dad, only because he was the only Witch Doctor to volunteer for the job. He doesn't teach us anything, and most of class he spends behind his desk reading magazines while the class runs wild poisoning each other with potions. I was kind of glad Craig is only a Witch, so he went home already.

I was partners with Wendy during lab and we had to make a potion that temporarily increased your body strength tenfold. The entire time we were grounding ingredients or boiling water, she just wouldn't shut up about Cartman. I was beginning to get a little annoyed, but by then our potion was complete and Mr. Tucker was reading his magazine, so we went off and did our own thing. Wendy went into the corner and pulled out her cellphone to text Cartman, I walked over to the window to see if Stan was waiting by the fence; he was. He was writing something in his notebook and smiling.

I stared at him the rest of class out the window. I wish I didn't have to go to Witch Doctor or Voodoo class, I just wanted to go home and hang out with him for a while. At the same time I didn't, because in the back of my mind I knew something would happen if he came, and I'd end up screwing everything up like usual.

I sighed and dropped down from the windowsill to sit in my desk until class was over, which wasn't long after that. Everyone left now except for me, so I walked over to Mrs. McGilroy's class across the hall. Today's lesson was the study of some old guy who made the Voodoo poison spell, and how he used it to assassinate some famous guy I've never heard of. The lesson dragged along like it usually did, the only thing I had to keep me awake was thinking about what Stan said during lunch about Craig and Christophe.

Eventually, class was over, and I got to leave. I ran for the door, eager to leave, then I remembered Stan was outside waiting for me and I got a horrible feeling in my stomach for some reason like earlier in Witch Doctor class. I left the room and went down the hall and out the school, and he was still standing there.

He turned and saw me coming before I could run, and picked up his bag, "You ready to go Kyle?" He asked.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

He looked worried again, "My house, dude. We always do homework at my house on Tuesdays. Are you sure you're feeling alright?"

This was my chance, "No, I feel kind of strange, maybe we should cancel for today." I said, he looked disappointed. "It's just this once, I swear. I'll see you tomorrow." And without saying good-bye, I ran home, leaving him there confused and alone.

I felt kind of bad for leaving him like that, I mean, he had been waiting there for me for two whole hours. It couldn't really be helped now though, I was already at my driveway. I walked up to my door and opened it; everyone else was out again today, so I dropped my bag by the door and took out my homework to work on in the family room.

I was on number five of my math homework—because instead of doing it in class I had doodled—and my doorbell rang. I looked over at the door; neither of my parents or Ike should be home yet. I got up to answer it anyway.

The bell rang again before I could get there, so I yelled, "Just a second!" But before I could grab the knob and open the door, it was forced open and swung in, banging the wall as it did.

I had jumped back in surprise, then looked back and saw it was Christophe standing in my doorway with a shovel in one hand and a lit cigarette in the other.

"I'm coming een." He said boldly, then stepped inside toward me.

"Hey, you just can't—" I began to say, but he glared up at me making me shut up, then flicked the ash off the end of the cigarette.

He cleared his throat and slung the shovel over his right shoulder, "Leesten to me, Broflovski, because I'm only going to zay zis onse. I heelped jou last year when you needed to rescue your Canadian freends. Now, jou are going to heelp me. Tucker told me vhat jou did for heem, and I vant ze same, comprennez Vous?"

I stared at him completely baffled, "You want me to make you a love potion?" I asked, great, not this again. "Who the hell would it even be for!"

He gritted his teeth at me, "C'est un secret."

I had had it with everyone and love potions by then, "No! No fucking way! I made one for Cartman and Craig, and it's been bad enough, I'm not making one for you!"

He looked more pissed off than I was, and took a step forward toward me, making me take one back. "Oh really?" He asked, taking another step so I took one too. "Tucker thought jou would say ozerwise. So apparently jou deed not hear me last time, and leet me tell jou, I do not like to repeat myseelf. Jou will make me one!" By now my back was against the wall, and he had his shovel in both hands with the blade close enough to my face that you could take it as an assault.

I still managed to fight down the intimidation, "And if I don't?" I asked as menacingly as I could manage at the moment.

He took his left hand off the shovel to take the cigarette out of his mouth after a long drag, then blew a whole bunch of smoke in my face, "Zen it will be your head." He said smiling. "I will be waiting for jou at your locker…" The blade of his shovel turned my head right as he pressed it to my jaw saying that he meant what he said. "And don't be late."

With that, he turned and left, using a spell to slam my front door behind him. Once he was gone I slid down the wall to my knees and just started freaking out and crying. My left hand was automatically on my neck where the shovel had been, and my right hand was automatically on my cut rubbing it through the fabric. Did Christophe really just do that? Did that all really happen? It was kind of hard to tell, I felt like I was still dreaming. It had to have been the scariest moment of my life.

Fuck. My. Life.

* * *

><p>comprennez Vous "understand?"<p>

C'est un secret "that's a secret."


	5. Dip

About them being 10 or 11, I know a bunch of you think that's too young for this kind of thing, but in the actual show they're only a year younger and you've seen the kind of things they do in the show. When I was in fifth grade I swore out loud words like fuck and stuff, and I'm pretty sure by then kids have at least a crush. Hell, kids get crushes in first grade. So once you think about it, it's about the best age.

Besides, I didn't really get to choose the age because of the way I came up with this story which you'll find out later.

* * *

><p>I had to have been staring at myself in the mirror for at least an hour, and my eyes were still as red as they were when I walked in the bathroom. I don't know why, but I just couldn't stop crying. Christophe was long gone now… If I had just gone home with Stan like I was supposed to this wouldn't be happening. Why could I have just gone with him? Why did I—that's my new trademark; isn't it? Why couldn't I have gone with Stan, why did I have to agree to make Cartman a love potion, why did I have to be a Voodoo?<p>

I wiped my eyes with my sleeves and left the hall bathroom and went down to the basement. I really thought last time would be my **last time**; but I guess I guessed wrong. I picked up my face mask from my table and put it on over my mouth. I went ahead and set up my burner and notebook like I did the two times before this and turned the burner on. While I was doing all this, my mind was jumbling around between focusing on the potion and everything regarding Christophe and what he did to me.

I don't really know him that well. I met him maybe a year ago when my mom was trying to execute Terrance and Phillip. Stan, Cartman, and I started a resistance, and that Gregory kid told us about him. I've hardly seen him since then; only every once in a while on the playground, but he never even so much at glanced at me until now.

He just… broke in my door and demanded a love potion.

I sighed while adding the boiling vanilla to the potion and watching as it turned bright white and the smell of strawberry smoothie exploded into the air and filling the room. I stared down at the little beaker of half-love-potion bleakly. One drop of this unfinished potion would kill me.

I wonder who this potion is going to. Christophe isn't Cartman, but he really isn't the nicest guy I know either. He seems like the kind of guy who if he ever were in a relationship would be screaming "Geet in ze keetchen and make me a sandweech, beetch!" then beating the shit out of her with his shovel…

The thought made me shake all over. Why wouldn't he? He might have well have just done it to me! I grabbed the beaker and swished the liquid around in my palm. Two love potions is far enough; three is too many. Cartman told Craig, and Craig told Christophe, so who would be next? By the way they're talking it up, everyone should know! What happens when there's no one left? What happens when more people come to me, and what happens when they get more violent than Christophe?

What if I just stop now?

I smiled. I smiled a big, crazy, Craig Tucker smile. _I don't have to make _anyone_ any more love potions. _But… if I don't give this to Christophe… 'It'll be my head'. I stopped smiling. _He can have my head._ I thought. _He can have whatever he wants, and so can I._

I slowly pulled down my face mask and brought the glass beaker to my mouth… when they find me here, when they find Christophe and Craig and Cartman, they'll all have realized they should never had asked me for anything. But, by then it will have been too late for them. Because right now… it's a little too late for me.

I was crying again. I don't know why, but I was. I didn't care though, because I'm going to do it. I was really going to do it. I leaned my head back and opened my mouth; it tasted like warm vanilla shake, and it slid uneasily down my throat. I don't care about Christophe, or my family, or Sta—

I jumped upon hearing my phone ringing from my beanbag chair across the room. It was Stan. It had to be. He wanted to _talk_ to _me_. I threw the glass beaker down on the table spitting out the incomplete potion, and hacking up the rest into my waist basket, then picked up my phone and answered it.

"Stan?" I asked, coughing and choking down air. I felt so horrible and stupid, I mean, I know I've thought about it before, but I can't believe I tried to… god, that was so stupid! I can't believe I actually did that! Stan would have—Stan would have—

"Uh, no, dude, it's me. Are you okay?" It was Kenny. I felt tears coming back in my own stupidity. Why would it have been Stan? "Are you… crying? Kyle, what's going on, seriously!"

I put my face mask over my mouth and nose again using my left hand, I had completely forgotten about the fumes, then opened the basement window and went upstairs to I could actually talk into the phone, "No, I'm fine. I'm having… allergies."

"Kyle, that's bullshit." He said immediately. "Is it Stan? Did you guys get in a fight or something? Is he hanging out with Cartman now? Did he go back to Wendy?"

I sat on my couch in my front room trying to calm myself down. I really need to tell someone about what's happening, someone has to know about the love potions and Christophe and his threat to kill me. "Kenny, listen. I need to tell you something. It's not Stan… I—I'm making—and Christophe…" I took a deep breath. Kenny deals with death, maybe I should just tell him about what I was doing before he called. "Kenny… I… I think I might be in danger. You see, I've been having weird feelings lately… and with all the pressure I'm in…" I sighed. "I'm just going to say it. Before you called—"

"Kevin, shut up!" Kenny interrupted me. "I don't care if he's dead, I'll watch it later, I'm talking to Kyle! No, I'm serious! Just be quiet! Mom! God-fucking-dammit. Dude, you still there?" He asked me. "Sorry, what did you want to say?"

I didn't feel like telling him now. "Nothing, I'm just worried about my homework."

"But, Kyle, didn't you say you think you're in danger?" He sounded concerned. "Should I come over? You were fighting with Stan, weren't you? Are you afraid he might try to beat you up?"

"No, no, dude, I'm fine." I said. "I'll see you tomorrow at school, alright?"

His reply didn't come for a few seconds, "Well… alright. But if something serious is going on, promise you will call me immediately, alright?" He asked. "Promise me, okay?"

"Yeah, sheesh, sure!" I said, wanting to just hang up already. "I promise! You fucking happy now?"

"Alright!" He yelled back. "I'm just—" He sighed. "I'm just worried about you Kyle; everyone is."

I sat there a few seconds before saying anything. "I worry about me too sometimes."

He laughed a little over the phone, "Yeah, okay, I'll see you tomorrow at school, okay? Just don't do anything too stupid between now and then, promise?"

I rolled my eyes, "Cross my heart and hope to die." I said, while actually crossing my heart with my finger. "Bye, dude."

"Bye." Then we both hung up.

I sighed in irritation and depression of my own selfishness and stupidity earlier, then left my phone on the coffee table as I went back down to the basement with my face mask on. I dumped what was left of the potion into my waist basket and started over. It didn't take long, I've gotten kind of used to making love potions now.

It was nearly done, so I had taken off my glove and had my knife in my right hand. I cut down the same line as the first two, but I didn't go deep enough, so I couldn't get anything out of it. I really didn't want to have to keep slicing it until I started bleeding like a fountain, so I made a new cut right next to it, and eventually finished the potion that way.

Who cares who Christophe uses it on? It's not my problem, and if I do this then I know he'll never bother me again. Everyone wins. I put the finished potion in a jar then into my backpack. By then it was late late late, so I went up to my bedroom so I could finally get some sleep, even if it meant missing dinner. I don't really know why, but I just couldn't fall asleep. I told myself it would be okay, I'd give Christophe the potion, and that would be the end of it, but in the very back of my mind I kind of knew something was wrong. Just thinking about him made it hard for me to fall asleep.

What if the potion is bad? When he uses it, it kills that person, then no doubt he'd come after me! He already came after me, and he nearly cut my head off with his shovel! I tried to calm myself down again, I tried shifting in my bed to find a comfortable spot, but in the end I maybe slept an hour before waking up, then I knew I wasn't going to sleep at all.

I got up at around seven, the time I usually get up, and got dressed and the usual stuff. Down in the kitchen I got myself a poptart and drank some milk, then left with my bag. I didn't want to still be here when my dad came down for breakfast, hell knows what would happen if he started talking about Valentines Day again.

I couldn't help but take my time getting to school; I was tired, and upset, and I really didn't feel like getting there early and having to see Christophe again. But, you can only walk so slowly going from my house to the school, and I was there within thirty minutes anyway. It was still a half our before school was even supposed to start, so I was the only one walking the halls to my locker. I could literally feel the potion swishing around inside its jar within my backpack with every step I took.

I was relieved to find my locker's hallway empty and that Christophe hadn't shown up yet, but I knew he'd be here soon enough. I dropped my bag, being careful so the jar wouldn't break, and took a seat on the bench. I sat there for a long time, trying to think about nothing, and eventually I took out the jar from my backpack to stare at the potion for a while. It didn't really do anything… it just sat there and glowed.

I still really couldn't believe the size though; I know that one drop of this stuff would be enough for you to loose total control of yourself for the first person you see, but this thing was _tiny_. I mean minuscule. Well, not that little of an amount, but I bet if I poured it out I could hold it in my palms without it overflowing. When I learned to make potions in class, I imagined them to be tall drinks that you'd need to ingest completely for them to work.

The red glow was starting to give me a headache. I couldn't help but wonder what it tastes like, the red-tinted vision potion tastes like mangoes because mango skin is it's main ingredient, so the love potion tastes like black tea? What does black tea taste like? Then again, when I drank the unfinished one it tasted like a vanilla shake, and that was probably because of the vanilla, so I really have no idea what one would taste like.

I jumped up from the bench as out of the corner of my eye I saw someone cross the hallway all the way down at the end and disappear. It was probably Christophe; maybe he was looking for my locker, or just trying to scare me. I grabbed my backpack and ran down the hall after them. I turned the corner and saw they had stopped at their own locker, but it wasn't Christophe, it was Wendy.

I went up behind her and tapped her on the shoulder, "Wendy? Hey, can I talk to you?" I asked.

She turned around and I flinched when she smiled at me; I still hadn't gotten used to the eyes, "Hi Kyle." She said like she usually did. "How's it going?"

She sounded kind of normal—better than yesterday I mean. "Nothing, I was just wondering how you were doing."

She just went on smiling, "I'm doing great! I've never been better! Last night, I went over to Eric's house and we watched Wipeout! During a commercial he asked me to make him a turkey sandwich, but when I brought it to him I dropped it, and he called me a bitch, but that's okay! Watching him sitting on the couch distracted me and I tripped over his rug. He sure is something, isn't he?" She asked, and she looked like she meant what she said. "He's great."

I shook my head, "Dude, Wendy, you _never_ call him Eric, and you _hate_ Wipeout!" I protested. "Everyone knows that! You've always resented mindless, pain-based TV shows."

She looked confused, then shrugged like it was no big deal. "Yeah, but Eric likes it, so if that's what he wants to watch then I'll sit there and watch it with him."

"Wendy, he called you a bitch and told you to make him a sandwich!" I yelled at her. "And you didn't say anything?" I suddenly felt scared, guilty, and regretful. I mean, I know love potions are supposed to be powerful stuff, but I had no idea they were **this** powerful. Wendy's off her nut! A love potion is just supposed to change your heart; not the entire way you think. "What's gotten into you?"

She stopped smiling, "What are you talking about, Kyle? Are you—" She twitched slightly. "Are you feeling okay?"

"Yeah, Kyle, are you feeling okay?" Came another voice from down the hall; it was Cartman. He approached us and slung his arm over Wendy's shoulder. "Is there a problem, Kyle?" He looked me dead in the face knowing exactly that I knew and that I couldn't do anything about it now. "Oh, hey Wendy?" He asked, turning to her and removing his arm.  
>"Yeah, Eric?" She asked, squeezing his hand.<p>

"Did you know that Kyle here is a Jew?" He asked, I could tell where he was going with this. She just shrugged. "Well, you know what we do with _Jews_?"

I saw Wendy twitch again and her pupils shrink, then grow unusually wide like before and she shook the twitch off, "Yeah, I know." She said, and turned to him. I watched him nod, and before I could turn back to her, she swooped forward and punched me in the face, knocking me back against the lockers with a loud crash.

Cartman just threw his head back and laughed. It didn't hurt that much, mostly because Wendy doesn't have that much upper body strength, but it still _kind of_ hurt.

She looked back at him as she put her hands behind her back, "Was that good, Eric?" She asked.

"Perfect. Now let's go, bitch."

"Okay!" And they walked off together hand in hand.

I've created some kind of a monster. And if Wendy was that bad, I didn't even want to know how messed up Tweek was by now. This was hardly a love potion, this was more like… a zombie potion. Wendy was… completely demented, and she did what Cartman asked her to. I knew love was kind of powerful, but not _that_ powerful. It brainwashed her, and every time I make a potion another person became one of _those_. They became a _Zombie._

I got up off the floor then and leaned against the cold lockers in the dimly lit hallway. It was empty again once they were gone, I liked it better that way. I felt so weak and scared and anxious as I picked myself off of the floor; Christophe… and Craig… and Wendy. Who's next? I took out the potion from my backpack again and stared into the glow. I just wanted to be done with this thing, but I'll never escape it now that it's started.

I ran back to my hallway and straight toward my locker. I just wanted to hand this thing over to Christophe and go home. I wanted to crawl back into my basement and never have to see any of these fucking assholes ever again. No one was by my locker like before, I stopped and dropped my backpack like before with the potion in my hand. Why was I so afraid? I wiped my face with my sleeve; why did I feel so stupid?

"Kyle?" Another voice came from behind me, and a hand turned me around. "Jou brought eet?"

For some reason seeing Christophe all the sudden right in front of me with his dirt-caked face and muddy shovel made me so angry. I shoved the potion in his chest and ran, grabbing my backpack off the floor before he could stop me. I didn't even care if I didn't get paid, I just wanted to go home and sleep.

He called after me angrily in French for a while, but eventually his voice grew further and further away until I couldn't hear him anymore. I was almost to the exit when I accidentally knocked into someone, and we both almost fell over.

"Sorry." I said with my eyes on the ground; I didn't feel like talking to anyone.

The other person regained their balance, "Kyle? Dude, are you okay?" They asked, and I looked up, even though I knew it was Stan by the sound of his voice.

There was no point in lying to him, so I shook my head, "I was just going home." I said, then tried to get past him, but he moved in front of me so I couldn't escape.

"School hasn't even started yet, are you—" He stopped himself and grabbed my face to get a better look at me. "Whoa, dude, have you been sleeping right? You look really out of it."

I pulled away from him, "I didn't sleep very well last night."

"More like you didn't get any at all! You have dark circles under your eyes." Stan said, I touched them with my fingers; I guess I didn't notice them when I was getting ready. He turned me away from the door and put his arm around my shoulders. "Here, lean on me; you look like you might pass out any second."

"You really don't have to—" I said, feeling a little awkward, but he cut me off.

"No, dude, you've been acting really, really strange lately. I know you don't want me to worry about you, but this is too much. I'm walking you to history." I didn't fight it anymore, and to be honest; I did kind of feel like I might pass out at anytime, wouldn't that be nice?

He left me at the door of Mr. Garrison's room because he had to go get his stuff out of his locker, and after having my fill of watching him walk off and thinking he might have actually cared about me, I went back to being in a horrible mood.

In the middle of class I couldn't help but glance at him every five minutes out of the corner of my eye, then curse myself for doing so. I don't think just the people who've been given love potions are the ones changing; a week ago and I was nothing like I am right now. A week ago I was happy, carefree—almost—, and the only thing I ever had to worry about was whether or not I was going to mess things up with Stan when he'd come over that day.

At lunch our square was taken again, so we sat on the swings like yesterday; back before I was traumatized. I was staring at Christophe on the marry-go-round again. He and Gregory weren't yelling at each other for once; they looked like they were just talking. All of the sudden Gregory pulled out a thermos from his backpack and took a sip of it, and I thought that was pretty normal until Christophe grabbed his face and forced him to look at him. Yeah, I thought that was kind of weird.

Gregory spit out whatever was left of it all over him, then stood and started screaming at him in French. Christophe immediately grabbed his shovel and stood too, and they were yelling at each other like usual.

Christophe used the potion on Gregory?

I turned to Stan; he was watching them too. So was Kenny and Butters, and—looking around—everyone was looking over at them now.

I glance back over; they were on the ground now, they were actually fighting! It wasn't five seconds and everyone gathered making a tight circle around them. Stan and I jumped up and ran over too to get a better look. Christophe was on top of Gregory and trying to pin him with his shovel, but Gregory had both hands on it too and was pushing back until he pulled him off and they rolled around on the ground until Gregory got up. He was trying to take the shovel from Christophe, but ended up pulling him to his feet and they continued to fight over it; swearing at each other and yelling in French even more.

I really couldn't believe what I was seeing. I mean, I know they get into arguments a lot, but they're best friends. And why would they be fighting if Gregory drank the potion and was forced to look at Christophe?

Eventually, Christophe pulled the shovel out of Gregory's grasp, and without thinking, hit him over the head with it; knocking Gregory to the ground.

The crowd of kids gathered around grew quiet, except for one kid who screamed, "IS HE DEAD?"

Christophe fell to his knees next to him and began shaking his shoulders violently, "Gregory? Gregory? Réveilles-tu! Réveilles-tu! C'était un accident! Je suis désolé! Gregory? Réveilles-tu!"

The side of his head was bleeding; that's all I could see. It wasn't long until one of the teachers ran out, pushing through the crowd of kids, and found him lying on the ground unconscious with the bloody head wound. She called out Nurse Gollum, and everyone slowly walked off back to their own thing once they had taken Gregory inside to the Nurse's office with Christophe right behind them.

"Wow." Stan eventually said; we were the only ones still standing there staring at the door. "You think he'll be okay?"

I shook my head; "I have no idea."

Recess ended soon after that, and Stan and I said good-bye until PE. Christophe wasn't there during French class, and I could pretty much tell why. It didn't bother me too much though, without him glancing back at me all the time I was able to relax. I might have even accidentally fallen asleep during class, but I couldn't remember after class was over.

Besides before school and lunch, today was a pretty normal day, so I enjoyed it as much as I could; which wasn't very much. Eventually enough, school ended, and I headed off with Stan to Witch class. Everyone was just as surprised as yesterday that I hadn't done my homework, but—hey, I was assaulted. What did you expect me to do about it?

We were in the middle of our lesson on giving life to inanimate objects—which I thought was an actually pretty cool spell—when Christophe and Gregory showed up. They handed Mrs. Testaburger a late note and took their usual seats. Gregory had a bandage wrapped around his head and was holding an icepack to his wound as well, and they didn't say a word to each other or anyone else. Christophe didn't even look at me.

Mrs. Testaburger just continued her notes, "Depending on the characteristics of the object, it will take on characteristics of a living creature with similar qualities. As example: a paper plane may act like a flying bird, or a piece of shoelace might act like a snake. I want everyone to try an exercise now."

She handed us stuffed animals and let us choose our partners, so Stan and I were together. I didn't really care about the exercise or our stuffed penguin, I was looking over at Christophe and how he was already making his stuffed snake slither. I didn't even care when the stuffed penguin pecked me, I wanted to go home.

Class ended and Stan left to hang out by the fence of the school; I really wanted to tell him to not bother, because I don't think I should go home with him today either, but he looked like he was really looking forward to hanging out since we haven't in a couple of days, so I didn't say anything. Both Christophe and Gregory left together even though Christophe is a Witch Doctor.

There was nothing to report in Witch Doctor class. Mr. Tucker decided today was the day to buckle down and be serious for once, so everyone sat in their seats and practiced grounding ingredients to powder instead of an actual lesson. Voodoo class wasn't much better. Mrs. McGilroy was out sick so my substitute was Mr. Tucker who made me do the exact same thing as last class; just under his strict surveillance.

I **ran** out of that classroom once it was six, but I stopped when I saw Stan leaning against the fence like he always did. I approached him from behind, and he turned around hearing my footsteps.

"You ready to go, Kyle?" He asked, bag in hand.

"Are we going to your house?" I asked him, he nodded. "Every Wednesday?" He nodded again. "Look dude, what you said this morning; I haven't gotten any sleep lately. I didn't sleep at all last night. I think I'm just going to go home and take a nap." I said. "We'll hang out tomorrow, I swear. It's just this once."

He looked disappointed, then turned away. "You said that yesterday." Then he left.

I stood there in the snow a minute before walking home myself. I'm an idiot. I sauntered all the way home and let myself in through the front and thought about spending the afternoon watching TV and blowing off my homework again, and decided I really needed that right now.

I wasn't five minutes into my show when there was a knock at the door. Probably someone else who wants a potion. I got up from the couch to answer the door, but before I could do anything else the door was broken in and flew open. I accidentally screamed when I saw it was a very pissed off looking Christophe in the doorway with his now bloody shovel in hand, and ran into my kitchen to hide. I opened the cabinet door below the sink and crawled inside as he entered the kitchen after me.

What the hell does he want now? I gave him the potion, it didn't kill Gregory, so why is he back?

I was clinging to the pipe of the sink praying he wouldn't find me when the wall behind me broke through and a giant plumbing pipe spewing water all over the place grabbed me around my waist and wrapped around me like a giant python. It threw me out of the cabinet and I lay on the ground with it tied around me—squeezing the life out of me I might add—at Christophe's feet. He put his outstretched arm down, and the pipe released me and retracted back into the wall.

He pulled me to my feet by the collar of my shirt, "Are jou tryeeng to make fun of me?" He asked. "Is zis some kind of joke to jou?" He demanded.

"I have no idea what you're talking about!" I exclaimed, and he just looked like he was getting angrier.

His left hand flew back up and before I could turn around all the way another two pipe broke through the wall and grabbed me around my ankles and I was falling forward. They pulled back and I tried grabbing onto something—anything—but I was slammed into the wall and was hung upside down by my ankles.

Christophe approached me again, and I tried to reach up and get myself down, but I couldn't fight gravity. "I'm going to ask jou again; what did jou do to zat potion?"

I stared him in the face; "I didn't do anything! What the hell are you talking about!" I yelled, the blood was rushing to my head. "I just made the potion! I didn't do anything to it!"

He grabbed my face making me look hard at him, "Zen why deedn't it work!"

I was going to demand he let me down, but what he said shocked me into submission, "It didn't—what?" I asked loudly. "It couldn't have not worked!" I said, not caring if I used a double negative. "That's impossible!" Christophe let go of my face and rolled his eyes. "If it hadn't have worked, then Gregory would have died—"

"VAT?" He screamed, looking back at me. "Are jou trying to tell me zat potion could have killed him!"

I regretted saying anything, and was still too scared to say anything more, so I just nodded with a scared shitless expression on my face.

He dropped his shovel, "He could have died!" I was really starting to feel weird now, with the blood rushing to my head. He made a fist and I wasn't sure if he did it without thinking first or not, but he punched me in the exact same spot as Wendy had earlier today.

It hurt much worse than Wendy's had, and my left eye was throbbing, I saw through my dizziness with my right one Christophe walk out with his shovel. At least he didn't decapitate me. But between my eye, being insanely tired, and the blood in my head, I was beginning to feel really bad and I wasn't quite sure if I did or not, but I think I passed out while still hanging upside down.

I opened my eyes; it was late. Well, later. I could see out the arch in the kitchen Christophe never closed my door all the way and it was open partially and swaying with the wind. I tried to look up at the pipes still holding my chaffing ankles. If I were good at magic, I would be down by now. I tried to pull myself up again to see if I could slip my feet through, but it didn't look like I would be able to, so I just decided I'd hang there until someone found me. I had already gotten used to the blood rushing, and my eye had stopped throbbing so much.

I let myself drop when I thought I heard the front door creak on it's hinges. I looked over and saw someone standing in my doorway. I swear, if it's Christophe…

"Kyle? Kyle, is that you?" Pip left the doorway and ran to me. "Are you alright? How did you get up there?" He asked. "What happened to your eye?"

He tried touching it, but it began to throb at his touch, so I cringed and swatted his hand away, "Pip, just help me down, alright?"

"Oh, sure." He said, and jumped up onto the counter next to me and grabbed my shoe and pulled it off and that foot fit through. He took off the other for me and I fell, nearly hitting my head on the tile, and stood. It was so relieving to let the blood drain from my skull.

"Ah!" I sighed in relief. "That's so much better!" I turned around to see the damage of the wall and cringed again. My mom is going to be pissed.

"Kyle, what happened to your eye?" Pip asked again once I turned back to him.

"My eye?" I asked, touching it myself and hissing as it stung with pain. "I have no idea… maybe it happened when Christophe punched me…"

He looked concerned—just like everyone else. "Oh wow." He said, and went to my refrigerator and pulled out an ice tray the grabbed my wrist and pulled me along out of the kitchen. "Where's your loo?" He asked.

"My what?"

He looked back at me in frustration, "Your toilet."

I was still a little out of everything, so I didn't really care that he was making zero sense to me, "That door, down the hall." I said, pointing to it.

He pulled me inside with him and pulled out a sandwich bag from his lunchbox and put the ice inside, then got a washcloth from under my sink and handed both to me.

"Put it on your eye." He said, so I put the bag in the cloth and held it to my face. It kind of helped.

"Thanks…" I eventually said while we walked back out to my living room. "For finding me and this thing." I said shaking the homemade icepack. "But, dude, what are you doing here?" I asked.

He looked up at me from his backpack, "What do you mean?"

"I mean, you live on the other side of town from me, and it's not like you could have know I was in danger, right?" I said. "So why'd you come to my house?"

He looked a little embarrassed now, "Well, actually, I was wondering… if you'd make me a love potion."

Should have seen that coming. "What?" I asked. "Who told you! Did Christophe tell you? Craig? Cartman?"

He looked more confused than embarrassed now, "Uh, no, no-one told me." He said simply. "I mean, I've heard it from a few people, but no one _told _me." He said, and noticed I didn't quite understand. "Well, everyone knows, Kyle." He said shrugging.

My jaw dropped, "**Everyone?**" How could everyone know after just five days? "Not everyone can know, I mean, there isn't anyone who doesn't know?"

He just shrugged, "Word spreads quickly around here. So, will you make me one?"

I couldn't believe he was asking this—okay, I believed it a little, "What? Why? Why should I make you one? Have you seen what these things do to people?" I asked. "This potion turns people into monsters! It turns victims into whole different people! And it's not just the people who drink it that are affected! Why would you want something as horrible as this! I'm done with these things! I'm never making another one!"

"Kyle," He said, "please, I understand what these do… I just really need one." I thought he was going to cry. Why the hell couldn't my life have been normal? "Do you know what it's like to be me?" Oh great. First it was begging, then I was spooked, then threatened, I guess I'm overdue for a sob story. "Do you know what it's like to be completely alone in the world? The only person who you could ever care about is way out of your league and your fighting yourself on the inside because you know there's no way for you besides this?" I turned to him and actually paid attention to what he was saying, because… it kind of made sense. "And you know it's wrong, you know it'd just be the potion, not them, but you feel like your all out of options, and if you don't do it soon; you might just give up on everything, even life. So… Kyle, could you please, please help me? Because, I don't know how much longer I can take it."

Pip was definitely not Cartman, or Craig, or Christophe. Pip was Pip, and he's made the most sense out of them. He helped me, and after all of those years of torment from us, from me, he kind of deserves it.

"Yeah." I said quietly. "Sure, I'll make you one."

He left half an hour later after thanking me just about twenty billion times and making sure my eye was okay. By then it was pretty late like yesterday, and I got up off my couch to get it over with. I had forgotten how tired I was when I stood and nearly lost my balance, but I made it down to my basement where Sammy was waiting for me and shook the bars of his cage in eagerness of my return.

I took my face mask from my beanbag and put it on, and started up the same procedure as usual. It was hard to stand, hold the icepack to my eye, and make the potion at the same time, but I had managed to get as far as shaving my lemon for zest when got really dizzy like earlier standing up.

I woke up with my upper body laid out over my potions table and Pip's potion half done next to me. I guess I passed out again. I took out my cellphone from my back pocket and checked the time; it was nearly three in the morning. Great. Five hours of sleep. I went ahead and added the lemon zest and then some cinnamon, then a whole bunch of nutmeg.

I really could care less about the scars on my wrist now, so I just cut down the new one. Once that was over with—thank god—I gave a small sample to Sammy, and he didn't die, so my work here was done. I put it in my backpack and went upstairs to the bathroom to splash some cool water in my face. I walked in and took a good look in the mirror. I know Christophe hit me hard, but this was a little extreme. My black eye was twice the size I figured it was, but I guess that's just because I was upside down when it happened.

I washed my face and brushed my teeth then crawled in bed, but I still couldn't sleep. So I pass out for five hours while making a deadly potion, but I can't fall asleep for five minutes in my own bed? Since my body wasn't going to cooperate I went downstairs and did my homework for once.

I left early again at seven so my parents wouldn't have to see my black eye. I was surprised when I found the kitchen was completely like it was yesterday before Christophe came, but knowing my mom she probably fixed it with magic.

I sat in front of my locker at school until everyone else showed up, which wasn't too long because I did my slow walk to school like yesterday. Luckily this time I didn't run into Wendy. Pip showed up ten minutes before the bell and took the potion and gave me his money, then thanked me a million times more.

"I even tested it, to make sure it works." I said, and he just gazed into it's glow. "By the way, Pip, who is this for?" I asked.

He cut his gaze from it to look at me, "Well, do I… have to tell you?" He asked.

I felt kind of bad for asking now, "No, but, it's better that I know to make sure I steer clear of them, you know, because of everything that's happened so far…"

"It's Damien." He said plainly, and I looked over at him like I didn't hear him even though I heard him perfectly. "I know," He said, blushing a little, "he's kind of… well, you know, but I do."

I smiled awkwardly, "Alright. You should probably go do whatever you want to do." I said, gesturing to the potion, and he thanked me once more before running off.

I decided I'd better get to class then. I picked up my backpack and put my icepack back to my eye because it still kind of hurt, and walked down the hallway toward history. I felt better today, I felt like I really helped someone who needed it, and I kind of needed it too.

I was about to walk through the door when someone in the hall call out my name. "Kyle!" I stopped and looked with my good eye; it was Stan running up to me. The second he saw my icepack he stopped smiling and ran faster. "Dude, Kyle, what's with the icepack?" He asked, trying to get me to put it down.

"It's nothing, Stan." I said, but he forced my hand down after giving my wrist the death grip and making me hiss with pain because of my cuts under my gloves.

"Dude! That is not nothing!" He said, seeing the black eye. "How did this happen?"

I tried to think a of a lie quickly, but nothing came to mind, so I sighed, "Christophe punched me." I said.

"That French kid?" He asked furiously, putting his hands on my shoulders. "Why! Where is he! I swear, I will—"

"Stan, stop!" I yelled at him. "It was my fault, okay, you don't have to avenge me for a black eye. It's _just_ a black eye. Okay? What's with you?"

He let go of my shoulders, "Kyle, we need to talk." He said. "I know you've canceled the past two days, but I'm coming over. We have to talk about what's going on. I'm really, really, **really **worried about you."

"Don't worry about—"

"I worry about you, Kyle, okay?" Stan said forcefully. "I really, really do, and telling me not to doesn't help. At all." He paused, giving me time to think. Eventually I sighed in defeat. "Alright, I'll be waiting for you after Voodoo class like usual. Okay?"

I managed to fake a smile, "Yeah. Can't wait."

* * *

><p>Réveilles-tu "Wake up"<p>

C'était un accident "It was an accident"

Je suis désolé "I'm sorry"


	6. Rekon & Ryde

I'm really sorry for the unexpected absence I took, but this is where the story get interesting. You're all going to love the next chapter.

* * *

><p>School was a drag. I mean, it always is, but today was just noticeably worse. Every time I saw Christophe he glared at me. I wasn't surprised or anything, but it still freaked me out. Also, my nightmare of Stan finding out about my love potion business was becoming a reality, especially since I found out from Pip that 'everyone knows', and Stan's coming over after school today to <em>talk<em> to me about _what's going on_. Every day this week someone's come over asking for a potion, what happens if I'm in the middle of convincing him nothings going on and someone shows up on my doorstep with a gun demanding a potion?

So, yeah, school was a drag.

I was currently walking home after Voodoo Class with Stan on my left; we haven't really spoken since this morning. I really wish he were on my right, because even though I couldn't see out of it, I knew he was staring at my black eye.

"So…" Stan eventually said, trying to start a conversation. "You still haven't gotten much sleep."

I didn't feel like talking, "I can't believe you can even tell underneath all this bruise." I said, gesturing to my eye.

He laughed, "You always know how to release tension." Stan stopped laughing to become serious. "But, dude, really, I mean, how have you been? Why haven't you been sleeping enough? And why the hell did Christophe punch you?" He sounded genuinely upset. "I feel like we haven't really talked in a long time."

I wanted to tell him so badly. I wanted to spill my guts of everything that had happened and that's still going on, I even wanted to tell him how I feel about him—just so I could say it and die happy—but I couldn't. He could never know about my love potion business, so I said this instead: "I can't tell you. You wouldn't understand."

He jumped in front of me on the sidewalk making me stop, "Wouldn't understand?" Stan asked. "Why wouldn't I understand? I'm your _best friend_; what ever it is, I'll understand! Why would you ever think otherwise?"

I thought I was going to cry again, and I'm pretty sure he saw this too, because a second later his expression changed from confusion to sympathy, and he moved from out of my way and we continued walking.

Do you ever get that feeling when you're talking to someone you care about or you're listening to a song on the radio you can really relate to and you just get that strange hallow feeling in your chest? That's the feeling of needing something—something important—but a lot of the time you don't actually know what it is you need, so the feeling just gets stronger. I kind of felt like that right now, except I knew what I wanted. I wanted an escape, I wanted to die, and in a way; I really wanted Stan to keep talking to me. Even if it was awkward small talk about how I can't take care of myself anymore, I just wanted to listen to him talk. More specifically to me if he could.

He didn't really say much after that, and I kind of knew why. Once we got to my house things seemed to go right back to normal though. We sat on my couch and watched TV, and I almost forgot about everything that's been happening; but I didn't. Why? Because every show on television has a Voodoo in it to create conflict in the story plot. More times than not it's because of a love potion. Love is kind of popular on TV you know.

The most annoying part actually is how all the Voodoo's are depicted on television. Most are either ugly hags or guys who still live in their mothers' basement. And they're usually the antagonist. Witches and humans are always the main characters with good looks and charm just because they're the majority so they attract a bigger audience. If I were a Witch I'd prefer watching some beautiful blond Witch beating the shit out of someone who is generally supposed to be more powerful and has higher status than yourself. _Everyone_ likes the underdog. Especially when they're better to look at.

Speaking of which; I probably look like shit. When it went to the next commercial I got up to go to my bathroom. I locked the door behind me and sat on the lid of my toilet just to rest while my head stopped throbbing from looking at the TV screen for too long. No sleep plus black eye plus looking at a glowing screen is a bad combination.

I got up a second later and looked in the mirror; I did look like shit. I hadn't even noticed the black circles under my eyes until now. No wonder everyone was pointing them out for me. I'm probably going to have this black eye for a couple of weeks though, it did look pretty nasty. I felt kind of stupid as I touched it gently while still staring at it in the mirror; stupid because the potion didn't work so Christophe punched me. Why didn't it work?

"Kyle?" Stan called from my front room. "Dude, there's someone at your door."

I unlocked the bathroom and walked out; Stan was still sitting on the couch looking over at me. There was a dark figure behind the glass of my front door, then they rang the bell. Well, at least I know it isn't Christophe.

I went ahead and opened the door, "Red?" I asked, seeing it was her standing on my porch today.

"Hi, Kyle." She said. "Can I come in?"

"It's a love potion, isn't it." I said plainly. She looked a little shocked and embarrassed, so I sighed and stepped aside to let her in. "Well, come on then."

She walked inside cautiously, probably expecting to see pickled organs harvested on shelves and mutated creatures in cages—just like in the television shows—, and started acting normal again after seeing Stan sitting casually on my couch. "Oh, hi Stan." She said, and he waved at her carelessly. "Are you here for a love potion too?"

I slammed the front door apon hearing that and turned around; but Stan didn't look surprised. He just shook his head.

I pulled Red over and down into my basement to talk after give Stan the, 'I'll be back in a second' look. This shouldn't really take long. "Alright, Red, let's get this over with." I started out. "I am done with the potions thing." I said as clearly as I could; she looked excited before this, but not anymore. "It's not that I don't want to make _you _one," I was getting uncomfortable with her staring at me like I just reached in and tore a big chunk out of her heart and ate it. "I've been sleep deprived and threatened and now this" I said pointing to my eye. Now the situation is making me ramble. "And…" My hands are on my forehead. "And I can't do this anymore."

She put her hands on my shoulders; why is she putting her hands on my shoulders? "Kyle… I know you must feel bad about the guys. Cartman… Christophe… whoever else got one…"

"How do you know about that?" I asked looking up. "How do you know about them?"

She blinked, "Well, it's obvious, isn't it? I mean, I know Wendy; she'd **never** like Eric even if the world would end if she didn't. And you saw Christophe and Gregory's fight, now they don't even talk to each other. So, yeah, I know about them… and I'm pretty sure everyone else does too."

I pulled her arms off me and stepped back; this is perfect. "Well, that's just _great_!" I said, walking over to my beanbag. "Fan-fucking-tastic!" And I sat.

Red walked over to me awkwardly, "So, Kyle…" She started; I crossed my arms looking down at scattered pages of my notebook on the cement floor. "Can you…?"

I looked up at her; she looked desperate, then I looked back at the floor, "I already told you I'm not making any more." I sighed. "It's not… _you_…"

"Yeah, I get it." She said, and picked up her bag to go. "Sorry to bother you, Voodoo Kyle." She began walking up the stairs. "If you ever change your mind…" She said after stopping half way up, but didn't finish and turned away to keep climbing.

I groaned getting out of my seat and chased after her, "Red, wait." I said; god, I thought I was done with this. She turned around and looked at me hopefully. "I know you're not Cartman or Christophe, and I guess I can help you, but who is it for?" I asked.

She turned a little red in the face, "Oh, well… I was going to use it on Token." She said, then cringed.

I almost burst out laughing, "What's wrong with liking Token?" I asked. "Isn't he a really nice guy?"

She smiled a little looking down at her feet and nodded, "Yeah… but, are you sure it's alright?" She asked. "I don't want to have to force you to do something you don't want."

I scratched the back of my neck, "It's nothing, just promise me you won't tell anyone I'm still doing this, okay? If anyone else comes asking…" I cringed myself.

She smiled excitedly and suddenly grabbed my shoulders again then pulled me in to hug me. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" She said, squeezing me. "I promise no one else will know." She ran all the way up the stairs then and I followed slowly. She stopped before she ran out my door and turned back to me, "Thanks Kyle." Then she left.

"What did she want?" Stan said from the couch, making me jump in surprise.

I walked back over to him and sat back down on the sofa, "Nothing much really; just homework tips." I said, taking the remote and turning the TV back on.

He was quiet for a minute, and I could tell watching me out of the corner of my eye. In the meantime, I had gotten out my notebook from my bag and had written myself a note on a clean page to make Red a potion after Stan leaves. "Really?" He eventually asked as I put my notebook away. "I thought she was asking you for a love potion."

I was really hoping he wouldn't say that, "What? Why would you think that?" I said trying to keep myself from looking worried. "Just because I know how to make one doesn't mean I'm handing them out."

"I just kind of inferred that was the case, I mean she did say 'Are you here for a love potion too', so I just kind of figured you were." He said. "You are making them for people, aren't you?"

I tore my eyes from the TV screen and looked him dead in the face; he was very serious. "I'm not making love potions for people, dude." I lied to him. "I can't even make a successful potion yet. I can't believe you'd think I'd be selling potions for money."

Stan made a weird face; "I didn't say anything about selling them." I glanced away from him after hearing that; god I'm so stupid! Eventually he turned back to face the TV. "Well, I guess if you say you're not, then you're not. I just wanted to know. There was this rumor going around that you were."

I mentally sighed to myself, "Yeah, I might have heard about it. Can we not talk about it anymore?"

"Sure, if it's a sensitive topic."

I tensed up a little, "Well, no, I'd… just rather sit here and watch TV with you."

"With me?" He asked suddenly making me jump realizing what I had meant when I said it, then turned away from him a little as my stomach turned uneasily. Shit…

I fought down the 'uh…' I was desperately trying leak out and scratched the back of my neck obviously enough, "Well, yeah, with you… I like… hanging out with you. Isn't it fine to want to hang out with your—best friend?" I asked choking on the last two words.

He started laughing, "Dude, you really need to lighten up. Are you sure you're feeling okay? Are you still worked up about the love potion accusation?"

At least the subject changed. "I told you; I'm not making love potions for people, and I don't want to talk about it."

Suddenly, the home phone started ringing. It could either be my parents or Ike, and I really didn't feel like talking to either of them, so I let it ring and tried to ignore it as I turned my attention back to my screen.

"…Dude, your phone is ringing." Stan eventually said.

I was getting a little annoyed myself, "They can leave a message."

Eventually the ringing stopped and my mom's recorded message played, "Hello, shalom, you've reached the Broflovski's. We aren't there to pick up our phone right now, so please leave us a message, and we'll get back to you as soon as we can."

"Hi Kyle—" It wasn't my parents or Ike. "—it's Clyde from English. Hey, I was just wondering if you could make me a love potion? I heard from a couple of different people you made some for Cartman and Christophe and those guys and I was wondering if I could get one too. I have a hundred bucks, so if you could make it tonight and just give it to me before lunch tomorrow that'd be great. So… uh, if you get this message, just do that for me. K, thanks, you're awesome, bye." Then he hung up.

Thanks a lot, Clyde. I immediately jumped up from my seat to erase the message so my parent's wouldn't find out about my 'business'. All I wanted was Stan to not know about the love potions. That's all I wanted. I felt so stupid trying to hold myself together while pressing the delete button; Stan knows about the love potions, and my life is hell.

"Kyle?" Stan called after having followed me into the kitchen. "Dude, it's okay… I've known for a while."

I turned around and tried to look at him for as long as I could, but in the end I broke down crying after five seconds. I don't know why I cried, but seeing him look at me like he was hurt, or… wanted to know… or he needed something was too much. I pushed past him and walked out into the front room; grabbing my notebook and then heading for my basement.

"No, Stan! It's not okay! You weren't supposed to know!" I yelled, slamming the basement door behind me and deadlocking it.

I had my forehead and hands leaning against the door trying to pretend everything would go away, but in a second he was banging on the door from the other side and yelling. "Kyle! Come on open the door. I want to talk to you. We need to talk."

"Go away." I whispered into the wood.

"Kyle, just open the door. I'm not angry or anything, I just need to know you're fine. This thing… it's gotten out of control!"

"You think I don't know that!" I screamed. "You think I don't realize what's going on! You think… that it's…" I couldn't say the rest.

He didn't say anything for a long while. "Kyle, open the door." I undid the deadlock slowly and the door creaked open toward me. Stan stepped inside, but I didn't look up at him. Eventually he grabbed my face with his hands and forced me to look up at him. I thought he was maybe going to… but instead he turned my head from side to side examining me. "Why do you do this to yourself?" He asked.

I tore myself away from him and went down the rest of the stairs to the floor, "You should go!" I said. "I have too much work to do. I'll never finish by tomorrow… Clyde will be angry with me…"

I was pushing away glass jars and beakers on my table trying to make some room to work, and accidentally dropping on the floor causing them to brake, including my bottle of vanilla. Stan came up behind me and put a hand on my shoulder trying to get me to turn around, but I shook him off, "Kyle, I know about the love potion! I know why Christophe punched you, I know about everything! I want you to stop! That's why I worry about you! You don't sleep, you don't do your homework, you hardly eat at lunch, you're a ghost of your formal self!"

"…That's what I'd expect from perfect Stanley…" I whispered out loud.

I felt him sigh from behind me; "I just need to be sure you're safe. I want to know you're okay." He said, and I felt the unsettling pain in my stomach shift uneasily into my throat.

I turned around slowly and looked him in the eye and lied to him.

"I'm okay."

"Kyle." He said so seriously I backed into my table knocking more things onto the floor. "Are you okay?" He asked again.

The pain was back in my stomach, "No, Stan, I'm not okay." I said forcefully to him. "I'm not okay! I'm not o-FUCKING-kay!" I turned back to my table to continue to push things out of the way.

I picked up my knife, looked at it, then put it back down out of the way. "What was that?" Stan asked. "What was that knife for? Kyle."

I fought the urge to rub my wrist through my sock-gloves. "It's for cutting up ingredients!" I lashed out. "Just go home Stan, just go."

Glancing back at him over my left shoulder he almost reached out for me again, then retracted and turned away. He walked all the way up the stairs to the door before turning back around, "I'll see you at school tomorrow, Ky." Then he left, and I was alone.

I know I say this a lot, but I really did want him to stay. You might not believe it, but I say quite a bunch of stuff that I don't really mean. But, Stan was gone now, and there was no chance I could gather up enough courage to call him and beg him to come back over, so I stood at my table and carved lines into it with my knife until I actually began focusing on making a love potion.

I had to run to the store to get more vanilla, and I was low on chili powder anyway. I ran back home in the freezing cold—because it _is_ winter after all—and put on my facemask as I went back down into my basement to make the potions. It took less time making two at once than one and then another the next day, but I had to cut twice to get the blood. Once they were both finally done I put them in my backpack in the usual spot and checked the clock on the wall; 11:47. Shit.

I ran up to my room to my bed for some much needed rest, but even as tired as I was—and **god** was I tired—I still laid awake in my sheets for hours repeating in my head what I'd done to Stan and me, and _us _as _friends_. I tossed and turned so much I was surprised I didn't wear through the fabric. I'd sleep for half an hour then wake up, and fall asleep again—and it went on like this until when I got up at seven. At least it was Friday.

I was still putting on my jacket when I was running out the door, and hadn't eaten anything; I just wanted to go to school and get shit over with. I was so glad when I didn't automatically see Stan waiting for me by my locker, he was probably off doing something better than waiting for me. I opened my locker to get my books—and the money Red promised me—and a little envelope fell out onto the floor. I picked it up and opened it, but there wasn't money inside, it was a note.

"We heard about the business, we want love potions too. Come by A168 and F22 by Monday and we'll have money. ~ Shane and Tristan"

I didn't even know anyone named Shane or Tristan. Was my '"business" really that popular? I put the note in my pocket and took out my notebook to write their names and their locker numbers to the list.

The second unusual thing I found in my locker was a note from Red with five twenty-dollar bills taped to it; it also said to meet her by the vending machine by the principal's office. I kind of found it funny that she wanted to exchange deadly potions in front of our principal who had enough authority to put us both in prison. Oh well.

I put my French book into my locker and slammed the door, then picked up my backpack and headed off to the principal's office. I was walking along, and still glad I hadn't run into Stan yet, when I ran into someone else. I saw Pip over by his locker as I was crossing the hall, and he noticed me and ran over to talk.

"Hey, Pip." I said, because class wouldn't start in a while and I had time. "How'd the potion go?"

He had looked happy enough to see me before, but now he looked less than. "Not so well." He said. "I mean, he drank it—more or less—but it didn't seem to… well, to be honest, I don't think it did anything."  
>"You mean it didn't work?" I asked. "Is Damien okay?" I said before I could catch myself. The last time I let that slip out it resulted in a black eye.<p>

Pip didn't look too surprised that I asked that, "He's fine, I mean, I knew about the 'death label' on Voodoo potions already. I just kind of figured that, since he's the son of the devil, it wouldn't really matter."

I sighed, "That's a relief. The last time one of my love potions didn't work I got this." I said pointing to the black eye. "But you already know about Christophe and the whole love potion with Gregory and all that."

"Gregory?" Pip asked. "He used the love potion on Gregory Vandergraff?"

"So that's what his last name is." I said to myself. "Yeah, who else? I mean, you saw the fight they had in the playground after that whole thing dished out."

He looked like he was thinking hard about the situation, "So that's why they were fighting! Kyle, they're not even _friends_ anymore!"

"What?" I yelled apon hearing that. "I mean, I know they argue—**a lot**—but they're _best_ friends! They're like Stan and me!" I said, then remembered how I yelled at Stan yesterday.

"You didn't notice? Didn't you see Christophe walking alone all day yesterday? He was visibly upset, and Gregory didn't even go to school. They haven't really talked to each other since the fight." Instead of helping Christophe and Gregory get together, I ruined their friendship.

I just stood there stunned not believing what I was hearing until the ten minute bell rang and Pip said goodbye as he walked off. I no longer really feared Christophe, or to a lesser extent; hated him, I kind of understood him now. I kind of know what it's like to mess everything up and have nothing to blame but yourself—and in his case; me. Eventually I kept walking until I saw Red. She took the potion and walked off and I just stood leaning against the wall next to the principles office because I didn't care if I was five minutes late or fifteen; I didn't want to go to history and have to sit next to Stan.

Eventually I had to because it's the law, and the first thing I saw when I came into the room was Red and Token sitting on top of their desks before class officially started with their fingers intertwined. The second thing I saw was Stan looking bleakly down at his desk as he scribbled something into his notes. He didn't acknowledge me when I sat down, but I kind of hoped for that, so the period went by without a word spoken between us.

After history I ran off to math, then English where I found Clyde waiting outside the door for me. He gave me the hundred bucks, and I gave him the potion, and without a word we went inside and went our separate ways. I did notice throughout class though he did keep a constant eye on Red who sat in the front of the class as she doodled the words "Red Black" on her fingers. Was she really _that_ serious about liking Token?

After English was lunch, but I didn't bother eating most of mine; instead I went out to the playground to see if I could figure out what Pip meant when he said, 'Christophe was _visibly_ upset'. There he was; sitting in his daily spot on the marry-go-round smoking like usual and… alone. It was actually kind of creepy how _noticeably_ quieter the playground was when he and Gregory weren't screaming at each other.

I glanced around the playground again to see if I could find Gregory, and I eventually spotted him sitting under a tree on the other side of the playground also by himself, and I kind of felt like it was my duty—since I started this—that I should at least talk to him, so I walked over.

"Gregory?" I called when I was at the tree.

He immediately perked up when he heard my voice and turned around smiling; "Tophe, I completely forgive you—" He began to say, but stopped when he saw it was me. "Oh." He sounded disappointed and his smile had disappeared. "It's just Voodoo Kyle."

I took a seat next to him, "Voodoo Kyle?" I asked. "Is that what people call me?" I thought I remembered Red calling me that earlier.

"Yeah," He said colorlessly, "you are the famous Voodoo Witch Doctor Kyle."

I was wondering how to start the conversation about Christophe, and eventually said; "I know about what happened between you and Christophe."

He scoffed, "_Everyone_ knows."

"Well… why aren't you friends anymore?" I asked.

He looked at me like I was stupid, "Kyle, he tried to use one of your love potions on me! I don't know why it didn't work, but it didn't, but it doesn't matter, because he still tried to!" Christophe wasn't the only one who was visibly upset. "I mean, why did he have to put it in my thermos?" He looked really confused and uncomfortable. "He could have just _asked_ _me_ _out_." He lowered his voice to a whisper. "I would have said yes."

I got the idea Gregory wasn't really angry with him, and that pretty much… he missed him. "You see how miserable Christophe feels right now, don't you?" I said, he looked up at me with cautioned interest. "Why don't you go talk to him?"

"Why doesn't he come over here and talk to me." He said without blinking, making me flinch a little. "You don't get it, Kyle, you don't know him like I do. Talking to him is pointless." He sighed, and looked away from me and into the distance. "He's stubborn, and careless, and I HATE THAT I LIKE HIM!" He exclaimed.

I was a little more than surprised, "Well, if you really feel like that, then maybe it's best if you guys aren't friends anymore." I said, and he just closed his eyes and nodded. "Besides, who'd want to have to kiss a guy that smokes, right?" I asked while standing to leave.

"Actually, I smoke too." He said, pulling out a pack from his backpack and took out one right then.

"Seriously?" I asked. "I've never seen you smoke, I thought you were too 4.0 grade point average for that."

He shrugged as he put the rest of them back in his backpack, "You pick up a lot of stuff from being friends with Christophe." He said, and I caught him slightly smiling at the name.

"When did you start?" I asked.

"Just now." Gregory said, then snapped his fingers making a little flame ignite on the tip of his finger and used it to light the cigarette then took in a lung-full and blew it back out slowly. Combustion magic.

With that, our conversation was over, and I walked back to the rest of the playground. I guess it was all true after all. They really aren't friends anymore.

I was just going to walk around or sit by myself, but some yelling over by the benches caught my attention and I went to investigate instead. I found it was Token who was making all the noise, and he was yelling his ass off at Clyde, who had an arm slung over a very content Red.

His screams went a little something like this; "Clyde you douche bag! You can't just waltz in and steal my girlfriend you asshole!"

And Clyde was yelling something similar to; "Can it, Token, she wants to be with me! Go find some black girl to bitch to!"

And after that they were in each other's faces trying to kill each other and screaming more obscurities. I ran between them and after taking a couple of accidental blows to myself, they eventually stopped so I wouldn't get hurt mindlessly.

"What the hell, Kyle, stay out of this!" Clyde said after I had stopped them from trying to kill each other.

"Shut it, Clyde!" I yelled. "I haven't been in a very good mood lately with all the love potion shit, and now you and Token start a fight? Do you want me regret helping you? Because I can kill you, you know." I bluffed the entire thing; there is no way I'd ever try to actually kill someone, but at least it got them to shut up. I couldn't even believe I was brave enough to go in and try to stop them. "Now why the hell did you guys decide to fight?"

Token just blurted out his answer, "He stole my girlfriend!"

"You have a girlfriend?" I asked. "Since when?"

"Not anymore." Clyde interjected, pulling Red over to him. "Red's with me now."

I face-palmed, "Okay, now I see what's going on." I turned to Clyde. "You really fucked up now, Clyde. Red asked me for a love potion which she used on Token because she likes him. A lot." He didn't look too interested. "Then they got together and everything was peaches and ice cream. Then _you_ come in and use a love potion on Red, so she leaves Token, who's madly in love with her, and starts going out with you. It's **your** fault."

"That's not true!" Came Token's voice from behind me, and both Clyde and myself turned to look at him in confusion. "I never drank a love potion, my love for Red is real! I always loved her, and I always will!" He exclaimed.

I didn't blink. "God those things are strong." I said.

"Well what are you going to do about it now?" Clyde asked, making me turn back to him ready to break his legs. "Red likes me and there's nothing Toke-y can do about it, and there isn't exactly a way to _cancel_ the love potion." I suddenly froze in realization; there's no way to cancel the love potion. No way in the world. Wendy, Tweek, Token, and Red are going to be stuck like this forever. FOREVER.

Red and Token are Clyde's problems now, I just ran. I ran back into the lunchroom, passed the marry-go-round where Christophe followed me with his eyes but didn't even have enough self-confidence left to glare, and just tried to go somewhere I could sit in a corner and disappear. As I raced through the lunch room, people noticing me called out "Voodoo Kyle!" and "Hey, can I have a potion?". Countless people. I didn't even pretend to ignore them; I screamed at the top of my lungs and ran out into the hall as I left the lunchroom that was now silent. Eventually I found a janitor's closet that was unlocked and not occupied by Cartman and Wendy, so I locked the door behind me and sat whimpering in the dark.

No one had found me by the end of the day, and I'm not even sure if anyone was even looking for me. Eventually I emerged from my hiding spot; it was 6:15 and getting dark outside. I walked down the empty hallway listening to my footsteps echo off the walls. I was going home; thank god it was the weekend.

I turned down the next hallway, then ran back around the corner when I saw someone standing there waiting for something.

"Kyle?" They called out, and I heard their footsteps running toward me. "Dude, I've been looking for you since lunch." Stan said once he had stopped in front of me.

I was a little surprised, "Well, here I am." I said lamely.

He laughed anyway, "Hey, we can walk to your house together." I cringed at the sound of my house; he noticed. "What's the matter? You don't want me to come over today?"

I looked down at my feet, "We can hang out over the weekend, dude, just not today."

"Oh." He sounded disappointed. "Well, then I guess I'll just ask you here then."

I looked up; "Ask me what?"

He looked almost sick; he made a face like he was going to throw up or something. "I-I…" He fought down self-disgust. "I need you to make me a love potion."


	7. Style

Background Information on Voodoo: Remember that dream sequence from chapter 3? You might want to go back and reread it, because that was the dream I had way back when I was still writing Speechless. I used it as my inspiration to write this, and it was supposed to be my second story, but shit happened and I wrote See You Again second.

You know how I said that you're all going to love this chapter? I lied.

* * *

><p>I stared at him for a couple of seconds—though it really seemed like forever—and I knew he was very serious. I didn't say anything back, and eventually just turned away and began walking in the other direction.<p>

"Kyle, wait!" Stan chased after me. "Where are you going?"

I stopped so abruptly he nearly ran into me and I turned around to yell; "I'm going home, Stan!" Then I continued to walk away. I really was going to go home, then probably crawl under my bedcovers and shake in disparity, but the hallway door I was going to use closed in front of me. "Stan, unlock the door." I said turning back to him, he just flicked his finger at all the other exits and they locked too.

"Not before I talk to you, Kyle." He said forcefully, then took a step toward me. "Just hear me out—"

"You want me to _hear you out_?" I asked. "For fucks sake, Stan! _You_ told me _not_ to make potions anymore! You asked me why I do _this_ to myself and this is why! I was so careful—so fucking careful!—because I didn't want you to find out! I didn't want you to know about the love potions, and I especially didn't want you to ever ask me for one!" I yelled. "That's why!"

"Kyle," He said, coming closer again, "I'm doing this for—" He stopped mid-sentence. "I'm doing this for the greater good."

I didn't yell anymore, I was to surprised by his reply to yell anything back, so instead I just said, "The greater good? What greater good? There isn't anything good or great about this."

He looked a little uncomfortable now, "It's to help you out Kyle; I swear if you do this you won't make another potion ever again."

Now he was lying poorly, but I wasn't angry, I was just kind of giving up. I looked at the tile floor as I spoke, "Really? You're asking me this to help me?" I looked up at him and stared him in the eye. "Because all it sounds like is you trying to help yourself."

He opened and closed his mouth a couple of times trying to think of something to say, but I didn't give him enough time before I turned around and walked back over to an exit and tried to jiggle the knob, but it was still locked.

"Can you unlock the door?" I asked.

He didn't at first so I looked back at him, he still didn't look like he had much to say. "Kyle, please, you just have to trust me." He pleaded, and I kind of felt weird. Like _I_ was the one being selfish. "I know you have a lot of reasons not to; I know a lot of other people who've asked you haven't been all that honest, and I know you're afraid of what I'm going to do with it but… Believe me when I say that I'm only doing this to help **you**."

I turned my whole body around to face him, and I sighed, "Is it for Wendy?" I asked. "Do you think that using a potion on her will really solve anything? I've seen what happens when too many people get involved with one person." I said, thinking of Red. "Cartman will kill **you**." He didn't say anything. "It… _is_ for Wendy, isn't it?"

He looked up awkwardly, "Y-yeah, dude, it's for Wendy."

I sighed again; my nightmare had come true. I really, really, **really** didn't want to make Stan a love potion, but I knew if I didn't he'd think I was a dick and probably wouldn't talk to me again. Why should it bother me anyway? Cartman could only keep them apart for so long, and if they really were meant for each other—which by now I was certain of—then I'd be a dick for not helping them. Even still, though, it made me want to vomit blood.

My hand was on the door handle again, and I could feel Stan had unlocked it, but I didn't try to leave this time, "I guess I can make you this one." I said.

Stan immediately went temporarily speechless with surprise, then brightened saying; "Dude, thank you so much! You won't regret this!"

I was halfway out the door by that time, and as the door was closing on him I breathed, "Yeah. Sure."

It snowed as I walked home alone, and no one answered the door when I got to my house. I had left my key in the basement last night, so I stood outside trying to pick the lock with magic for ten minutes before I actually got in. At least I got in. I dropped my bag by the door and took my notebook down to the basement after checking the messages on the message machine. I had three more requests in the waiting, and now Stan, so I added them all to the list I had made.

Five potion requests not including Stan. I hardly recognized anyone's name on the list. I decided while putting on my facemask that I was going to make Stan's potion tonight, and that was it. The other five I could do on Saturday and Sunday.

Sammy had come to be kind of immune to the potion fumes—I remember him passing out for a few minutes the first time I made the potion, but it hasn't happened since—but fumes are much more toxic on people. I'll probably never grow immune to them.

I was thinking a lot about Stan and Wendy when I was making the potion… thinking about how Cartman is probably going to murder him, and how I was going to lose my last chance of ever being with Stan. Wendy's going to go from being Cartman's slave to Stan's slave and all hell will break loose. At least Wendy won't be punching me again anytime soon; she'll just do whatever Stan asks without hesitation.

I froze halfway making the potion at what I just realized. This _was_ a zombie potion. If Stan was under the power of a love potion, he wouldn't even think about using one on somebody else; he'd do whatever I'd tell him to. Screw what I said before about how using love potions is pitiful; this is for the greater good. And… even if the love potion is irreversible… Stan won't realize he's being forced into this. He'll be happy. Maybe.

I decided I was going against my principles, and I had to use a love potion on Stan. I almost burst out in maniacal laughter at the thought. I… wanted to do this! I was genuinely excited. But, at the same time, I still knew it was wrong, but I really didn't care.

I quickly finished the love potion to give to him that he would never end up using, and started the second one. All I have to do is get him to drink it before he uses his on Wendy… this shouldn't be too hard. I'll call him tomorrow morning and ask him to come over. I'll give him his love potion then ask if he wants to stay and play video games. Later I'll just get him a glass of water or something and everything will be fine.

The next morning did not go as planned. First of all, I didn't call Stan; he called me.

I had woken up about ten and was eating breakfast when the phone started ringing. My mom picked it up and handed it to me, "Hello?" I asked into the phone.

"Dude, Kyle, good morning." Stan said.

"Oh." I had expected it to be someone else asking for a love potion so I was mildly surprised. "Hey, what's up?"

He lowed his voice to a whisper, "Did you finish the you-know-what?"

I rolled my eyes, "Yeah, it's done. Did you want to come over and pick it up?" I asked.

"Uh, no…" He said. "How about we meet at Tweak Bros. and we exchange there?"

"Why?"

"Just because." Was his answer, and I found it a little unsatisfying. "I'll see you there at noon, okay? Bye!" Then he hung up.

He didn't even give me enough time to say 'goodbye'. Oh well. I put the phone down on the table and continued to eat my cereal. Seriously, what's up with him lately? I know he cared about me, he kind of had since the outburst Thursday night about how the potions need to stop. Then the very next day he himself asked me for one. Besides the obvious, I've been getting these feelings that he didn't really want to hang out much anymore since we haven't been hanging out—or we have been hanging out and it's just always gone horribly wrong. We don't talk during class or lunch and he just doesn't seem to want to be friends anymore.

It made my heart sink a little; maybe we're drifting apart after so long. It's the entire love potion's fault. I swear; no more potions from now on.

My parents didn't bother with asking me where I was going at 11:30, I just called, "I'll be home before dinner!" as I ran out the door and that was that. I currently wasn't snowing at the moment, which I was glad for because otherwise the two potions in my pocket might have frozen over. Walking from my house to downtown doesn't take too long, and for that I was glad, because even though it wasn't snowing I was still freezing my ass off under my bright orange jacket.

No one else was walking this time of day; how boring. But, hey—my life was kind of boring right now too. Go to school, go home, make love potions, drama, drama, drama, and the cycle starts over. . But right now I was anything but bored; I could feel it in the tips of my shaking, cold fingers that good or bad my life—or at least my life until I go to Middle School—will be significantly different once I use this potion on Stan.

Finally—and by god, do I mean finally—I got to Tweak Bros. and stepped inside. There were quite a few people here, of course because it was warm, inviting, and the only place to get coffee for twenty miles in all directions. I noticed Stan already sitting at a table as I took off my coat and hung it with the others by the door. He noticed me too and walked over.

"Hey dude," He started off saying, "cold, isn't it?"

"Sure is, Caption Obvious." I managed while my teeth chattered and I threw my hands into my pants pockets to keep warm.

"You brought the potion?" He asked suddenly.

"Yeah." I reached into my pocket and took out one of the two and handed it to him. "Knock yourself out." I said smiling in my knowledge that he wasn't going to be able to ever use it. "So why'd you want to meet here anyway?"

I walked over with him as he led me to the counter after putting the potion in his pocket, "Well, you're always talking about how you need a vacation, and I figured you might have wanted me to be there too."

I smiled confidently for the first time in a long time, "You're the only one who ever talks about me taking a vacation." I corrected.

He ordered us two hot chocolate while I gawked at the sugary baked goods behind glass that I couldn't afford because Stan was the only on who brought money. We sat back down at his table and sat waiting in silence besides the conversations of the people around us until our order was called. I volunteered to get our cups, but I knew I wasn't going to be able to ad the potion to Stan's at the counter because someone would notice, and I couldn't do it while walking back to the table because I only had two hands.

I was at the counter and the guy called our order again incase we hadn't had heard, and I saw it was Tweek standing behind the counter calling orders looking less stressed out than usual.

"Hey Tweek." I said while grabbing the cups, planning just to exchange the hello the get back to Stan, be he replied.

"Voodoo Kyle!" He exclaimed recognizing me, I made an awkward face; people really have to stop calling me that. "What are doing here?" He asked like his life depended on it.

About looking less stressed out than usual; I take it back. "I'm just hanging out with Stan." I said. "What's up?"

He fiddled with the bottom of his apron, "Just kind of anxious to get off shift…" He said.

"Why is that?"

He pointed a shaky finger past me at one of the tables, "Craig's been waiting since we opened this morning."

I turned around in horror and in slow-motion. I hadn't noticed Craig sitting at one of the window seats until now; he was looking over at Stan watching him tapping out the rhythm of a song on the table with his fingers. A second later he glanced over at me and I knew he knew what I was trying to do.

I quickly grabbed the cups of hot chocolate-y beverage and walked back over to my table scared stiff by the fact that I could feel Craig's stare on me the entire time. I sat down in front of Stan and set down our cups uneasily on the table which he noticed.

"Dude, you okay?" He asked, I just nodded, and he got up. "I'm going to go to the bathroom, I'll be back in a minute." Then he left me sitting there in the open completely vulnerable.

My eyes shifted so slowly to the left so just to glimpse at Craig for half a second and I saw he was still watching me. I started to sweat; a perfect opportunity like this comes around, and he can't just look away for one FUCKING SECOND. I glanced back at him again, but didn't look away. He was just waiting to see what unfolded with a kind of amused—but at the same time still dully apathetic stare on his face—and I flipped him off to give him the message. He just did the same back to me then turned to Tweek who was now sweeping the floor around his area to talk.

Without the pressure of him, or anyone else, watching now I easily reached across the table, grabbed Stan's cup and held it under the table so no one would see. I uncorked the jar and emptied it into his drink, then put the cup back on the table in front of Stan's seat. No going back now.

Even after that it had to be a few minutes before Stan even came back, what was taking him? Actually thinking about it; lacing his drink was kind of too easy. I still couldn't believe no one had actually noticed and that Stan was taking so long. It was just kind of… weird.

Eventually Stan came back and took his seat, "Sorry it took a while, there was a line." He said, then picked up his cup.

I almost accidentally tried to stop him out of instinct, but I managed to stop myself before I did anything stupid, "Stan, I—" I said after he had put down the cup and he looked up at me.

"What?" He asked, and I stared at him in the eyes waiting to see if they would dilate, but they didn't. "Something the matter?"

"You don't… feel anything out of the ordinary?" I asked; I was the first person he looked at, and I tested the potion multiple times on Sammy to make sure it wouldn't kill him, but nothing seemed to be happening at all.

He made a weird face then looked down into his hot chocolate, "Well, now that you've mentioned it, I think the cocoa tasted a little different than last weekend, like they added something else or the milk went bad."

I suddenly felt really worried; the potion didn't work, why didn't it work? I grabbed his cup and looked at it myself, then stood. "I'll throw this away for you, dude, it's un-drinkable." And I took the drink over to the trash and tossed it.

Before I walked back over I checked on Craig again; he was still sitting by himself sipping some hot drink and eyeing me conspicuously. I tried to ignore the stare and the unsettling feeling of why the potion didn't work on Stan.

I went back over and sat back down and picked up my own cup slowly and brought it to my mouth, and I noticed before I tipped it back and closed my eyes that Stan was watching me very closely the entire time.

"Kyle?" He asked when I was almost done, and I pulled the cup away and opened my eyes to look at him.

"What?" I asked, swallowing then tasting around my mouth the strange aftertaste that kind of reminded me of… nutmeg.

He examined me from his seat, "Was yours bad too?" He asked eventually.

I looked back down at my cup thinking about the extra flavor; "Yeah, maybe, I think so… it kind of tasted—"

"Nutty?" He asked finishing my sentence for me, and I had to nod. "Well."

We didn't say anything else and just kind of sat there together awkwardly as I heard Craig burst into laughter from across the café. I didn't really understand what was so funny besides the fact that he knew I used my potion on Stan and he wasn't making goo-goo eyes at me—by the way, that would be totally creepy.

I got up soon enough to throw out my strange cocoa, then walked toward the door seeing as there was nothing left for me to do here, "Kyle, wait!" Stan got up and followed me. "Where are you going?" He asked.

"I'm going home dude, I'm not really in that great of a mood right now. I have to go home and sort things out." I said while walking out the door into the freezing cold.

"Didn't you want to hang out longer?" He asked still in the doorway holding it partially open, and I stopped as I was about to hop off the curb into the gutter.

Why did I think this would work? Why did I ever believe for a second that Stan could ever like me? I didn't say anything as I continued walking, and he didn't stop me. I walked home as slowly as I could dragging my feet in the slushy, dirty snow, and I was certain it was going to start snowing any minute because of how dark the sky was, but by the time I was home a single flake hadn't fallen.

I didn't go down to my basement like I usually did; instead I sat up in my room on my bed. The only light was dull, ghostly glow leaking through my blinds from outside laying on my covers and the left half of my body. I sat in the almost darkness so long I heard the inconsistent tap of rain on my window. It was the only sound echoing through the house, not even my parents and Ike downstairs made any noise.

I was sitting with my knees up to my nose not really thinking about anything in particular to keep myself from thinking those dark thoughts I had locked in the back of my mind since the day Christophe threatened to decapitate me. I perked my head up at the sound of our doorbell.

It had been a couple hours since the incident at Tweak Bros. and I didn't think Stan would have come by this late. It was probably someone from school asking for a love potion. I heard shifting downstairs as someone got up, then the door opening.

"Oh, hello Stanley, Kyle's up in his room." I heard my mom say. "He seems really upset about something. You should go talk to him."

"Okay." I heard Stan's voice. Why did he have to come?

I didn't want him to see my room full of used tissues littering the floor from past laments. …God, I _am_ way too formal when I talk. I'll talk to him down in the basement.

I could hear him coming up the stairs and approach my door, but he felt like he was a world away. That's probably why I was so surprised when I heard his say, "Kyle? Dude, can we talk?" I pulled one of my pillows around and pulled it into my chest as he continued to talk to me through the door. "It's important, can I come in?" I clutched it closer to me, he just opened the door himself. "Dude?"

"Can we talk in the basement?" I asked, not looking up.

"Sure."

I got up slowly and he waited as I exited my bedroom then followed me down the stairs. My parents didn't bother us as we headed for the basement; they were too busy watching the five o'clock news with Ike. Stan closed the basement door behind us and I stopped in front of my potion table.

"What did you want to talk about?" I asked, expecting it to be about why I so suddenly left at the café.

"It didn't work." He simply said once he had descended down all the stairs. I turned around to face him and so he would expand on what he meant. "The love potion, Kyle, I… I used it after you left, and it didn't work."

I looked down at the floor; "Yours didn't work either?" I said more than asked. "But then did…" I trailed off.

He took a step toward me, "But then what?" He asked, but I didn't say anything. "Kyle?" He asked more frantically. "What would have happened?"

"If it didn't work…" I was playing with my fingers. "Then Wendy would have died."

"Wendy?" He asked, making me look up, then said. "Wait, they could have _died_?" I didn't answer him; how could I? He could have just killed the girl he likes because of me. "Kyle, what the hell is going on! You're trying to tell me love potions can kill people!"

"I… I thought you knew." Was all I could manage at the moment.

"That means I could have killed—" He said cutting himself off.

"WENDY! I know!" I yelled at him.

He took another step toward me to where he was so close I tried backing up but hit the table, "Kyle, why did you do this? Why when you know people will be hurt!" He demanded.

"I did it for you!" I screamed at him. "I did everything for you, because I—" I ended up choking on my words and couldn't force the rest out; he couldn't know. He just couldn't know.

"Because you what!" He asked desperately, making me turn partially so I wouldn't have to look at him, but I didn't have enough room so I threw up my arm to keep him from getting closer. "Why?" He asked, grabbing my left wrist and squeezing it so I'd answer.

I screamed at the pain of his fingers pressing into my unhealed and reopened cuts on my wrists, "Let go of me!" I yelled. "Let go of my fucking wrist!"

He noticed my pain was coming from under my sock glove and removed from my wrist as my other hand fell on the table to support my body, but landed on my knife; knocking it to the floor. He looked from the large knife that had dropped on the ground to my wrist, rubbing his thumb over the cuts while taking them in making me wince. He immediately put two and two together.

"You're cutting yourself?" He asked, no longer in a loud, demanding voice, but barely a whisper. I tore my hand from his grasp and picked up the knife putting it back on the table. "You're cutting yourself!" He repeated louder now. "Are you serious! Kyle, what—what the **fuck**!" He yelled, making me cringe as I continued walking behind my table just to get away from him and imagine he'd disappear. "Don't you realize how dangerous this is! How stupid this is!"

I sank down to the floor with my knees up to my nose again and I didn't hold anything back and just bawled. I was too choked up to say anything in reply.

"Why the fuck did you do this!" He just continued to spew. "I knew it was bad, I knew it was really **fucking** bad, but this is outrageous!" He walked over to me and tried to get me to stand up. "You could die! Is that what you want!" Eventually I stood and I really just wanted to throw my arms around him and cry into his shirt, but what he said stopped me. "I can't believe you would… You would be so stupid!"

I just froze. I stopped crying and breathing, and possibly just stopped living. I pulled myself away from him again, and I could see in his reaction he didn't mean what he said, but it was too late.

"Go home Stan." I breathed.

He flinched a little and looked hurt himself; wounded even. "Kyle, I… I didn't mean…"

I turned looking down at the ground again. "We're not friends anymore."


End file.
